Addicted
by LolliliciousLolly
Summary: SEQUEL TO TWISTED WORLD. Jesse's gone. Suze is alone and falls prey to a new threat. A murderous Paul Slater is back, darkly addicted to his obsession: Suze. He'll win her even if it means killing her. Oh and then there's the vampire thing... [Hiatus]
1. Meet the Parents

Hi! Me again. See? No four hours worth of homework could stop me from writing for you wonderful creatures that God placed on this green earth! (I am so gonna flunk Social Studies . . .) But yeah!  
  
WARNING: There are a few things in this story that are VERY DIFFERENT to the original Ninth Key. Granted, Paul is dead and Jesse is alive, but that's not what I mean. Only two of you know what's coming. Please don't flame me when you find out what it is, it's just so much better this way, I think!  
  
***I'm not fluent at Spanish, I'm on a translator. I know, it's sad, but yeah. I'm, surprisingly, still learning about our Español friends from it though.***  
  
Love ya!  
  
**************************************************************************** ********** Addicted  
  
~*~  
  
'Mamá, Papá,' Jesse announced in that rich, sexy Spanish voice that made my spine tingle and my heart rate increase ridiculously, 'meet Susannah.'  
  
The reaction wasn't instantaneous. Let me tell you. A stunning woman with Jesse's gorgeous eyes and a stylish dress was staring at me incredulously. And a stern looking man with Jesse's strong nose and chin, looked me up and down, stopping at my miniskirt for a moment, and then flickering up to my eyes.  
  
Oh my God, I KNEW I should have worn slacks! I'm such a loser! This was Jesse's fault. He'd TOLD me to come casual!  
  
I'd kill him if I didn't love him so much!!!  
  
The silence didn't end. I could hear the clock ticking, and every breath that entered and evacuated everyone on the porch of Jesse's marvelous suburban home. I wished someone would say something . . . This was slipping beyond the realms of humiliating!  
  
Jesse kind of gave a sham cough, and his mother seemed to snap out of a trance.  
  
She threw her arms around my neck, and hugged me tightly. I wheezed in alarm. 'Jesse! Ella es magnífica! Hermosa! Encantador!' she squealed. 'Isn't she darling, Ricardo?' She let me go, and then held me out in front of her, staring right into my eyes. I felt like I was looking at a feminine Jesse. Behind her, I though I saw the twitch of  
  
'Sí,' replied Jesse's father gruffly, stepping forward, and putting out a hand. 'Ricardo De Silva, Susannah. Pleasure to meet you after all mi hijo has told us about you.'  
  
'Susannah Simon, er, I'm with him,' I responded oh so academically, and jerked my head at Jesse, who snorted silently. I met Mr De Silva's hand, and he shook it so hard it was worried he'd popped my elbow out of its socket.  
  
'Just calm down,' Jesse said with amusement into my ear when he saw how wide my eyes were.  
  
'Do come in, estimado, do come in,' Mrs De Silva gushed, taking me by the shoulders and steered me inside into what looked like the Lounge Room.  
  
My jaw fell a decent four centimeters.  
  
'Wow,' I murmured under my breath. I mean, seriously, it was INCREDIBLE! The walls were painted in this rich red colour, with a hint of burgundy, and there was jarrah EVERYWHERE. The coffee table, the wall units, the floorboards, everywhere. And there was this like, huge sparkling crystal chandelier above us that sent tiny rainbow reflections across the room. And the ornaments everywhere were very Spanish, like, flamenco dance partners, and sombreros and stuff, and the canvases on the wall were way grand. There was a beautiful scene of Spain at a big fiesta on one of them, and on another, a portrait of the whole family done in oil paint. Everything was very striking. I felt very strange, standing in a room of such Spanish content. It was so beautiful; you had to be there.  
  
'Gracias,' cooed Mrs De Silva, looking very please with my response. You know, the whole "wow" thing. 'Sit here, llamaré a las chicas.'  
  
'What she say?' I shot at Jesse from the side of my mouth.  
  
'She said she was going to call the girls. Just watch out, they'll be all over you.' Mr and Mrs De Silva left us alone. I could here Mrs De Silva  
  
He led me over to one of the jarrah framed couches, with grand red cushions. It seemed like a very manly area. Again, I felt odd being here. I was a pauper compared to Jesse . . . What did he see in me? He had everything he wanted, and I couldn't possibly meet up to his standards . . . I gently fingered the scars along my wrists. They were barely visible anymore, but still raised ever so slightly.  
  
Blue eyes . . .  
  
Suze! I thought harshly to myself, Forget about him!  
  
Only I couldn't ever forget.  
  
'Querida,' Jesse whispered, 'Run while you still can . . .'  
  
I looked up, and saw five of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen in my life. They were darling! And I'm not even all that fond of children!  
  
'Susannah, these are my sisters,' Jesse introduced, crossing his arms over his polo shirt covered chest, an amused grin playing mysteriously across his lips.  
  
The girls beamed at me, except for the eldest, who smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 'Cómo usted es?' they said in unison, as if they'd practiced it. The little one stumbled on her words. It was like, so cute. I grinned at Jesse.  
  
'These are the twins, Rosalia and Lola. Both of them are eleven.' Two of them stepped forward, wearing identical outfits; jeans and tops that said "Amore." They both had haircuts that complimented their tanned Spanish skinned faces perfectly. It was jet black hair, just like Jesse's.  
  
'Hola,' the left one said. Then to her brother, she snapped, 'tell her to call me Rosa!'  
  
Lola elbowed her. 'I'm two minutes older,' she assured me with a smug grin. 'I am more maduro for my age than Rosie.'  
  
Rosa shot her a dirty look.  
  
Jesse pointed at the second youngest one. 'That's Esmerelda. She's six.'  
  
'Have you had sex yet?' she wanted to know.  
  
I blinked.  
  
The twins turned around and shushed her hurriedly. She looked confused. I gave Jesse a weird look, and saw that he was trying not to laugh. But the eldest girl wasn't holding back. She was chuckling quite unkindly by then. 'This is Corazon,' he nodded towards her. She was standing with her hip out slightly, looking bored. Her outfit was cute enough, with hipster light blue jeans and an off the shoulder black top. Her hair was in a high pony tale, and she had a very sharp, almost foul looking face, but still in an attractive way.  
  
'She's not that pretty, Jesse,' she said rudely, staring at me coldly. 'Her skirts too short. Papá would disapprove.'  
  
'Cora!' Jesse hissed. 'Sea cortés!'  
  
'Vaya chupe algo, Jesse,' she glared, and turned her head away from him.  
  
(A/N: Translation: 'Go suck something, Jesse.' Isn't she a sweetheart?)  
  
'Hey,' I snapped to Cora, 'I'm not mentioning what I think about those shoes – that they are so last year. And that bag? It's not real Prada,' I added nastily.  
  
Her mouth fell open in outrage, and she went to respond when Mr De Silva came striding in, tall and broad shouldered. He nodded toward me, and said, 'I'm glad to see we are all getting along.'  
  
I glared at Cora, who returned my look with one of equal aversion.  
  
That was when I felt a tiny tug at one of my fingers. I turned around in surprise, and saw the littlest one looking up at me with huge brown eyes. Like a porcelain doll. My heart melted. She was so tiny! So sweet.  
  
'Mi nombre es Adrianna,' she said in the softest voice I'd ever heard. And then, she held her arms up to me, as if she wanted to be held. I beamed, and bent down to pick her up. She clutched my arms with smooth, gentle hands, and even rested her raven haired head against me shoulder sweetly. I couldn't get over how cute she was.  
  
'So you're Adrianna,' I said slowly.  
  
She was the one that had almost been killed. By . . . him.  
  
Icy blues, glaring at me, wanting me dead, wanting me . . .  
  
'Susannah, are you all right?' Jesse asked, concerned.  
  
'Yeah,' I said, 'dandy. Why?'  
  
'You looked, well, lost. Scared. I know that my family is alarming, but really,' he chuckled that sexy little chuckle that made my knees go weak. I held Adrianna with care, and noticed that the twins kept looking at me, whispering furtively to each other.  
  
'Lola says your eyes are like emeralds,' giggled Rosa, and was elbowed again by her sister. I smiled. My cheeks were getting numb from smiling so much. Cora still glowered.  
  
She's just, um, jealous.  
  
But honestly, of what?  
  
That my handbag was genuine Prada?  
  
Yeah, sure Suze.  
  
'Los niños! Dinner!' fizzed Mrs De Silva from the dining room, I assumed. Jesse put his arm around my back and rested it on my hip, and guided me into said room. Again, wow.  
  
It totally matched the lounge area, accept the whole twelve-seater table was jarrah, with this golden yellow table cloth on it that shimmered slightly in the warm bathing light of the two impressive chandeliers. Tall golden yellow candles lit up the table, and fine china plates with the colours of Spain were set in between spotless silver cutlery. I breathed in awe.  
  
'Jesse,' I said in a worried tone, 'I'm not used to this . . . I'm going to look like an idiot. Well, I am an idiot, but they don't really need to know that. I look like the product of sixteen years of etiquette lessons at home compared to my step-brothers, but here, I think that Adrianna'll be miles ahead of me,' I babbled. 'I mean, I seriously don't do first class dining –'  
  
'Querida,' Jesse said, using that silky, persuasive voice he uses when he wants something and knows he's going to get it, 'Calm down. Just be yourself. They love you.'  
  
'Yeah,' I said, 'And Cora just wants to lick my shoes already.'  
  
He looked put out. 'Well, Cora is like that. She doesn't take too kindly to my girlfriends.'  
  
I spun around. 'You've . . . you've had girls before me?' I demanded. Adrianna stared at me avidly, her eyes wide and naïve.  
  
He looked awkward. 'Well, three. But please don't think I'm anything like that el tonto, Paul,' he added angrily.  
  
And with that, Adrianna burst into tears.  
  
'What happened?' Mrs De Silva asked in alarm.  
  
I blinked. 'I seem to have that effect on people,' I said squeakily. Adrianna opened her arms for her mother, screaming now.  
  
'Jesse, what did I do?' I asked, freaked by then. I mean, making children cry? Had I really sunk that low?  
  
'It was me,' he said, looking troubled, 'Whenever she hears his name, she remembers . . .'  
  
Murderous, blue eyes.  
  
"Just you wait, Susie . . ."  
  
'Susannah, sit here next to me!'  
  
I snapped out of my ensnaring, torturous thoughts, and looked down to see Rosa pulling me to the tall jarrah chair beside her own. I shot Jesse a look, one which he found highly amusing for some reason, but nevertheless rescued me, and sat me next to him, opposite his mother, and next to his old man who was on the end. Cora sat opposite Jesse. I gawkily sat, and looked around.  
  
'Maria! Felix!' cried Mrs De Silva.  
  
I looked up, and saw a very beautiful young girl with curly ringlets dressed in a maid's outfit come. And a man in a suit minus the jacket joined her. He had this little goatee and this majorly weird haircut. They both brought three trays of food each. Well, I could only assume it was food. I mean, what else would it be? Possibly free samples of Maybelline lip liner?  
  
She set down a tray before me. Maria, I mean. I smiled automatically. Jeez, I bet she and Cora got on well, judging by the snooty look she was giving me. She eyed Jesse with a ephemeral flirtatious gaze, and then dashed back to the kitchen for the rest of the food.  
  
'Felix and Maria Diego are married,' Jesse explained to me in a whisper. 'They work here.'  
  
'Would never have guessed,' I muttered. He smiled, and squeezed my hand under the table.  
  
When all was served – Gaspacho, it turned out to be, some Spanish soup that really wasn't bad, with some really nice fresh bread – Mr and Mrs De Silva began their small talk. Maria and Felix stood behind Mr De Silva against the wall, watching silently. They both didn't seem to like me very much. I wonder why. I really am a perfect angel, ya know.  
  
Yeah . . .  
  
'So, Susannah,' Mr De Silva drawled. 'What does you father do?'  
  
'My father's dead,' I replied shortly.  
  
'Oh, I'm very sorry,' he apologized.  
  
I'm sure you are . . .  
  
'But I still see –' I began, and then shut up quickly. Oh my God! Me and my massive mouth! I'd almost told him about my little ability. I suck, I really do . . .  
  
We sat in silence again for a moment, until Esmerelda seemed it was her duty to keep the talking going.  
  
'Jesse has a penis!' she piped up joyfully. I snorted into my soup, and Jesse went a dark shade of red.  
  
'Duh,' I smiled at her.  
  
Mr De Silva said something to her in Spanish which I didn't understand. I shot a laughing glance at Jesse, and saw that he'd suddenly found the pepper container fascinating.  
  
'So Susannah,' Cora began, but I cut her off.  
  
'Call me Suze, please. Everyone does,' I said dryly.  
  
'I don't,' Jesse replied shortly, still embarrassed.  
  
'Yeah, well, I'm still working on you,' I said. It was true. He just WOULDN'T call me Suze like everyone else. It was annoying in a BIG way.  
  
But half the time he called me "querida," so that was okay.  
  
'Well, Suze then,' she said, adding a sprinkling of spite to my name, 'Why do you wear skirts so short?'  
  
I saw Jesse kick her under the table. I gave her a complacent look. 'Well, I'm actually allowed to wear them,' I retorted slyly. She narrowed her eyes at me, looking momentarily defeated, and then continued eating.  
  
Suze: 1, Cora: 0  
  
Adrianna, in her highchair, spat out her chunk of bread. Maria rushed forward and wiped it away, looking bored.  
  
'So, Susannah,' Mr De Silva said, 'When did you discover that you were a shifter?'  
  
HUH?!  
  
I looked at Jesse with panic. 'Jesse, they know?!' I choked out.  
  
Mrs De Silva looked at me strangely. 'Más estimado,' she said, her forehead wrinkled in concern, 'Are you quite all right?'  
  
I was looking at them all with wide eyes. Cora looked sickly amused at my distress, as did Maria and Felix.  
  
'I – I – But – not even my own MOTHER knows,' I said, my voice rather loud.  
  
Mr De Silva raised an eyebrow. 'Really? That's not very candid of you, Susannah. She has a right to know.'  
  
My God . . . I was kind of hyperventilating then. 'Jesse, they KNOW?!' I repeated in dread.  
  
'You think?' Cora muttered.  
  
Jesse looked pained. 'Susannah,' he said, 'They figured it out. I was telling them about the Paul thing, I didn't really think about what I was saying.'  
  
I shook my head at him. 'Oh, yeah, let's just tell everyone. It's bad enough that I am a mediator –'  
  
'What the hell?' Cora interrupted crudely.  
  
'A mediator,' I said carelessly, 'but with you telling everyone, Jesse, everyone will know, and I'll be a freak, and –'  
  
'Susannah,' Jesse soothed, placing his hand on the side of my face, 'It's okay. My family will tell no one. It is an honour to be a shifter. They won't tell a soul.'  
  
'Yeah,' Esmerelda said, 'Because Papá will disown us if we tell.'  
  
Happy families . . .  
  
I breathed again. I still couldn't believe that Jesse had ratted on me . . . Did I go around saying that he was a murderer? No!  
  
'So, you know about Paul then?' I asked. I suddenly noticed that they were all staring at me like I had asked for a laxative. 'What?'  
  
They all looked at their food quickly. 'Yes, we know all about Paul,' Mrs De Silva, cutting her stake – yes, we were on the main course now – said. 'We know what our Jesse did. And we couldn't be more prouder of him. He loves his sisters very much. And that Paul was el hombre malo. It was his own fault that he is dead.'  
  
'They know all about Paul?' I asked in barely a whisper, raising my eyebrows.  
  
Jesse shifted uncomfortably, and replied in equal silence, 'Well, apart from the fact he is now a ghost.'  
  
'Yeah,' I muttered, 'One who wants us to eat the dirt six feet under.'  
  
~*~  
  
After dinner, everyone went to the lounge room again, minus Adrianna who had been put to bed. I'd excused myself to go to the bathroom, and after directions about a page long, I'd finally found it. Man, Jesse lived like royalty. I admired all the photographs of him as a child. He was cute even then!  
  
But cuteness had subtly turned to sizzling hotness, of course.  
  
In front of the mirror, I was reapplying powder from my compact, when Cora walked in.  
  
'Hey,' I said, 'Knock much?'  
  
'Whatever, Suze,' she glared. 'Let's get things straight. I don't like you –'  
  
'That,' I stated, 'is obvious.'  
  
'Yeah, and you have no right to come in here and act like a princess just because you're a shifter like my brother.'  
  
Me act like a princess?  
  
'Are you on crack?' I wanted to know. 'Because I know that they offer a pretty good detox option at the Carmel Hospital –'  
  
'Shut up,' she snapped. 'This is my house. Jesse's my brother. You're not good enough for him. You go around in your small skirts, and pick up my sister like she is your own child. You are lower than him. Do him a favour before you hurt him. Leave.'  
  
I stared at her, incredulous. And hurt. 'What,' I asked, 'Gives you the right to say that to me? How dare you.'  
  
She left, looking very superior, and full of it.  
  
I stared at where she'd been standing just a few moments before. What a bitch! She couldn't say that! That was uncalled for!  
  
But . . .  
  
. . . Was she right?  
  
~*~  
  
'Susannah,' Mrs De Silva acknowledged me as I walked back in, looking fresher. 'There's something I must tell everyone. I think that you are entitled to know, also, since it affects you also.'  
  
I froze. Why did that sound bad?  
  
Mr De Silva stood up next to his wife, holding her hand. They looked very perfect together. Did Jesse and I look like that? You know, perfect. I hoped so. Because it felt perfect.  
  
'Susannah, we regret to inform you that Spain is stealing Jesse away from you for a month,' he replied solemnly.  
  
What? What was that supposed to mean?  
  
Jesse looked outraged. 'What?! I cannot go to Spain now with you! Not now,' he said.  
  
No . . .  
  
Don't leave, Jesse. Not now, not ever . . .  
  
Mrs De Silva touched her head apologetically. 'Jesse, lo siento. I really am. But, there is something that must be done. Family matters. It is your Uncle Orlando. He is well, terminally ill, and needs family. We must go. All of us.'  
  
All of us, except me. Of course not you, Suze. You ain't family. You ain't even good enough for Jesse . . .  
  
Not taking it to heart or anything, oh, not at ALL.  
  
Jesse stared at her, his mouth opened slightly. 'No . . . ' He looked at me. I must have looked pretty upset, because he clicked his tongue sympathetically, and then looked back to his mother. 'Indeed I must go, if Uncle Orlando is sick. When are we leaving?'  
  
'Tomorrow night,' replied Mr De Silva gruffly. 'Good boy.'  
  
Jesse bowed his head. 'And you waited until now to tell me this. Now, when I have my . . . company here.'  
  
He couldn't even call me his girlfriend. Joy, you must mean heaps to him, Suze.  
  
Mrs de Silva whispered something to her husband. 'We only found out yesterday,' he explained. 'We were going to go tonight, but seeing as though you had your . . . company over, we thought it could be put off for one day.'  
  
I was still staring at Jesse, stunned.  
  
He frowned. 'Might I have a word with Susannah? En privado?'  
  
'Go outside, my son,' advised Mrs De Silva. Jesse stood up, took my hand, and pulled me out the front door, closing it behind him. Crap, it was cold out. I hugged my arms to my chest. Jesse, noticing this, very courteously passed me his jacket.  
  
'Thanks,' I replied shortly.  
  
'Susannah,' he said sorrowfully, 'Please don't make this hard for me.'  
  
'Not making anything hard,' I snapped. 'Nothing.'  
  
Oooh, I could think of a really disgusting way that Paul would probably have replied to that . . .  
  
He paced around the porch, looking perturbed, 'Oh, Susannah . . . querida. I do not want to go. But I have told you before, my family means a lot to me.'  
  
'I know,' I said. 'I'm saying nothing against that. It's just . . . ' I trailed off.  
  
He knew exactly what I was thinking. Of course he did. He could read my mind if he ever wanted to. But nah, he just knew.  
  
'Paul,' he finished for me. 'Susannah, if he does come back, go to the priest.'  
  
'Fat lot of good that'll do,' I said, 'if I'm already dead.'  
  
He sighed. 'This is inconvenient, I realize that querida. But, I must. I hate to leave you vulnerable –'  
  
'Hey, I'm not a total kid,' I snapped.  
  
'Poor choice of words,' he said. 'Well, incapable of defending yourself –'  
  
'You're cruising,' I warned. treasure  
  
'You know what I mean!' he flung his hands out. 'Susannah, I still don't' know what he did to you, when he kissed you that night! He did something, I know he did. He would not tell me what it was. But even I've noticed you acting a little differently lately. You're not as . . . '  
  
I folded my arms. 'Not as what, Jesse? Do tell, I'm dying to hear everything that's wrong with me . . . '  
  
'Vibrant,' he finished.  
  
'I am NOT a colour!' I said indignantly.  
  
'Focused,' he continued.  
  
'On school? Who focuses on school? And a lot has being going on, ever since I was elected vice president,' – did I mention that? It's pretty flattering, really, I haven't known the Mission kids for too long – 'and it's a big ask of my time.'  
  
He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. No, as I was GIVING him a headache. 'Susannah, I do not know what has happened to you. I love you no less. More. But I'm worried that if he does come back, then he'll finish off what he almost succeeded in doing.'  
  
'I'm worried too,' I said quickly. 'Terrified. So don't go!' I stressed to him.  
  
'I told you, I have to!' he stepped right up to me, glaring down at me.  
  
'Yeah, I KNOW that! But –'  
  
Only about then, he seized me by the arms, and planted a big fat one right on the ruby reds. It was zealous and loving, mournful and possessive. He scrunched up my hair, and grasped my back, pushing me against the door.  
  
I shoved him away. 'Jesse, you can't just kiss me whenever you want me to shut up.' He smirked, and stepped in for more. Aaah, if you've never been kissed by Jesse, ha ha. I tell you, it's heaven. Heaven!  
  
I smiled. He'd won me over. Like usual, dammit.  
  
'Okay, not complaining any more,' I squeaked.  
  
I love my Jesse, no matter how infuriating he is . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
You can't say I took my time . . . First chapter only. Well, with Jesse gone, rah . . . Big trouble coming ahead for Suze. Of the Porsche owning, golden chained, silk tee wearing kind.  
  
Spells out: T-A-D.  
  
Regards, MystAngel! 


	2. Kelly's Party

Okay, chapter two up. Uh, yeah . . . thanks for everyone who reviewed! I don't usually do this, but I will try to respond to SOME of the reviews. Er, yeah . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Saz: I will NOT kill Susannah off just so you can have Jesse. Jesse is MINE! **Auto Disclaimer: Jesse belongs to Meggin Patricia Cabot, and not Lolly.** Hypothetically speaking!!  
  
Sheba, Queen of: I don't speak Spanish fluently. Email me, and I'll tell you the secrets of my success, lol . . .  
  
Rissa: I LOVE YOU! Er . . . that was weird . . .  
  
ReaderCHica: I emailed you in response to your questions. That this is a sequel, and that's why it's different. Read that, and then you will get it.  
  
purtymanagirl58: uh, Meg? Nah, I wrote an email to her, and she replied. Which was way cool. I just asked her some stuff about the mediator, and she answered. As in, "Dear Lauren, blah, blah fanfiction, blah, blah, princess diaries, blah, blah sneak peak of Twilight, blah, blah good luck with being an author." It was pretty cool. But nothing major. Still chuffed though . . .  
  
happydrummergal: Yeeeeeeeees, Madeline. Jesse dooooooooes have a penis. Fact of life. That's very nice. Er, very . . . *backs away.* Nah, joking. Heh.  
  
~*~  
  
Okay . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
Suze's POV  
  
'I'm keeping you, forever. You're not going to know what hit you. Pain night after night, just like I felt. I'm going to torture you, Susie. Make you scream, yeah, that's right. You'll beg for freedom. I'll never let you leave. Never. You're mine. I'll never get bored of inflicting pain. I'll never get bored of you, Susie . . . '  
  
Blue eyes . . . Blue eyes!  
  
I felt strong hands grab my lower back and thrust me into him. Hands snaked around my wrists, squeezing, constricting. Like pythons. I fought, but I could not do anything. Not a thing . . .  
  
'Just you wait, Susie . . .  
  
You'll fall for me soon.  
  
I'll be there to catch you.  
  
And I'll hold you prisoner,  
  
Forever . . .'  
  
Angular features lurked before mine. Those strong, intruding lips that seemed to drain me of hope, and those blue eyes that inspired a terror that crushed my heart, and made me freeze over, leaving me cold.  
  
Chilled . . .  
  
Dead.  
  
'Let me go,' I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Not a sound, not a breath. I couldn't even muster up the strength to struggle anymore. I was limp in his dominant, criminal embrace.  
  
'Kiss me, Suze.'  
  
No.  
  
Never.  
  
'Kiss me . . .'  
  
Hypnotized, my lips drew nearer to his. I couldn't say a word, move a muscle.  
  
And that sucking sensation returned. Like he was bleeding me dry of everything I have ever felt. Everyone I have ever loved.  
  
And I was powerless against this dark magic.  
  
And I was falling . . . Falling into him.  
  
His world.  
  
I could see everything as he saw it. From blue eyes.  
  
Blue eyes, blue eyes!  
  
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
~*~  
  
'NO!'  
  
I jerked upward, sweating heavily, and panting under my covers. I clutched my chest.  
  
'Shit,' I gasped, and looked over at my clock radio. 3.59am.  
  
It was just a dream.  
  
No, a nightmare. Calm down, Suze. It wasn't real. It was a nightmare. I wiped my forehead, and went to open the window. I rush of cool sea breeze dried my face pleasantly. I sighed, as my breathing settled into a more regular rhythm.  
  
Why?  
  
Why did I let him haunt me like this? When he wasn't even here? How could he have such a powerful hold on me, even from a distance?  
  
I still felt drained . . . And there, then, I collapsed on the window seat, crying.  
  
~*~  
  
'Suze?'  
  
I turned around in my desk. Kelly Prescott was sitting behind me, chewing boredly on a pencil. Her blond locks draped around her angelic, snooty face, and her blue eyes considered mine vaguely. We were both in World Civ. doing a test. Mr Walden had gone out of the room.  
  
'Yeah, Kell?'  
  
'Well, I was just reminding you about my party to –' She stopped. 'Suze, you look, well, really bad. No offense or anything.'  
  
Yeah, no offense, or anything, Suze.  
  
I shrugged. 'Er, didn't sleep much,' I said carelessly. Too carelessly.  
  
She raised her eyebrows. 'Yeah, whatever Simon. You're still messed up about getting beaten up by that mystery dude, right?'  
  
I didn't say anything.  
  
Because it was true . . . Mind, Kelly's best friend had played a cameo role in my injuries. Paul couldn't get ALL the glory for making me scream.  
  
'Because, well, my dad, he's like, I lawyer, and he can so sue the guy. Or something,' she said, still chewing on the pencil.  
  
Yeah, if only this guy couldn't just . . . disappear from jail or anything.  
  
'Kelly, you're gonna get lead poisoning,' I pointed out.  
  
She blinked, and stopped chewing her pencil. 'So, are you coming to my party? Because I can SO hook you up with a guy –'  
  
'I'm with Jesse,' I replied sharply.  
  
She smiled sneakily. 'Yeah, but he's in Spain, Suze.'  
  
'No, he'd still be on the plane.'  
  
'That's not what I meant. You can't expect a guy like Jesse to go to Spain, in a land of all these hot chicks, and stay faithful, right? I mean, come on, Suze. That's way naïve of you. And I'm sure the Spanish ladies can't keep their paws off of him, either. I mean, discussing Jesse De Silva here?' she said, with a somewhat lustful sigh there. 'You're just lucky you saw him first . . . I so would have bagged him.'  
  
I turned back around. Could she be right? Would Jesse just forget about me like that? Go off and screw around with some señorita?  
  
No, Kelly's just winding you up, Suze. Ignore her.  
  
But –  
  
'So come to the party, Suze. I mean, you so need to get out more as it is. And there's gonna be booze there, too! Dad is totally letting me, just as long as, you know, I'm careful with people driving home and stuff. Oh, come on, Simon. You said you'd come ages ago –'  
  
'Okay, Kelly!' I hissed at her. 'I'm there.'  
  
Really, that thing about her saying I needed to get out more had bugged me. Me? Not getting out? I get out a lot. I go to the beach, and, to the Coffee Clutch, and . . .  
  
. . . break into people's homes to deal with feral ghosts . . .  
  
Oh, yes. That counts SO much when my social life is concerned. Really.  
  
So yeah. A party couldn't hurt, right?  
  
'Pool party,' she shot at me. 'I have a pool.'  
  
'Yeah, I kind of gathered that. Unless we were planning to be swimming in puddles.'  
  
'Swimming?'  
  
I turned around again. 'Er, thus the point of a pool? I mean –'  
  
'Suze, Kelly! This is a test. Shut up and get on with it,' Mr Walden scolded as he marched back in. Mr Walden is generally an okay guy, but just don't get on his bad side.  
  
'I'd expect better from the President and Vice of our sophomore class,' he went on, annoyed.  
  
Okay, okay, cool it already.  
  
I wished Jesse were here . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Pool party my ARSE!  
  
I couldn't believe it! There I was, in a SWIMSUIT, with forty or so people flocking around me, in CASUAL! I stared in horror as people paraded around in SWEATERS. Slacks! Dresses!  
  
But noooooooo swimsuits.  
  
Kelly, I'm gonna KILL YOU!  
  
How am I, Susannah Simon, ex-New Yorker, supposed to know that no swimming goes on a pool parties? That they are called pool parties simply so girls can stare at the pool, wishing they'd brought their bikinis to show off their fabulous bodies to all the guys? And for the guys, strictly for peeing in as dares?  
  
I was outraged, I really was. I mean, REALLY.  
  
I sighed, and walked over to get a handful of chips. This was so going to suck, I knew it. No one would ask me to dance, and even if they did, I'd have to turn them down. I'm committed you see.  
  
To Jesse.  
  
Who's in . . . Spain.  
  
That was when a very flushed Debbie Mancuso, minion of Kelly, came rushing up to me, in a totally skanky tank top that was WAY too small for her. It was black, with a red lace fringe along the neck and red lace-up sides. And the pants matched.  
  
Yeah, believe it. It was all I could to keep myself from laughing.  
  
'Have you seen Brad?' she asked breathlessly.  
  
'Dopey?,' I replied. 'Nah, he's grounded. He's at home.'  
  
Yeah, for calling Adam a fag the other day. Ha ha to him, I say.  
  
Debbie looked crestfallen. 'Really?' she asked sadly.  
  
'I'm afraid it's true, Deb.' Then I added, 'well, not so afraid. But yeah.'  
  
'Okay,' she said, pouting, and drifted through the crowd.  
  
I smirked to myself. Stupid Dopey . . . Should start calling Debbie, er, Dopina, or something.  
  
Dopey and Dopina, on dope!  
  
Yeah, totally.  
  
I sat for the next half an hour, dead bored. I mean, hey, I might not be the sexiest looking one here, but surely someone would ask me to dance, so I could reject them? Surely!  
  
But no. You're not that pretty, Suze. Don't flatter yourself.  
  
I stared sadly into my empty cup of punch. I was lucky I'd managed to get some alcohol free, before some of the jocks had spiked it. Kelly had gone off her brain at one of them. It was really funny to watch, but besides that, nothing much had happened. Then . . .  
  
'Did you hear? Debbie and Brad are at it!'  
  
I froze. Brad Ackerman? Hell no . . .  
  
Scott Turner and his friend Eddie Harrison rounded on me. 'Hey Suze,' they leered. Eddie guffawed, and elbowed Scott. 'Wanna dance?' Eddie asked.  
  
I scoffed cynically. 'No thank you.'  
  
'Aw, come on,' he goaded, 'Bet you're shit.'  
  
'Well,' I sniffed, 'You're not going to find out. I haven't sunk as low as dancing with losers, yet.'  
  
Scott did this big "oooh!" thing, and hammered Eddie on the back, who gave me a dirty look.  
  
'Man, you way uptight,' he whined, and walked away. Scott then foolishly tried his luck. He nodded at me, looking me up and down, with this sick, alive expression on his face. I felt like puking.  
  
'Mmm, you look good tonight, girl. . . What do ya say, Simon?' he grinned coolly, semi-punching me on the arm.  
  
'I say no,' I said shortly, and stood up and walked away.  
  
But Mr Scotty Turner isn't the brightest candle on the birthday cake, is he now? He followed me through the crowd, then – I am so serious – groped my butt.  
  
My eyes went wide in shock.  
  
'Okay, that's it.' I seized him by the shirt, and pitched him head first into the pool.  
  
He fell in with an almighty splash, yelling in surprise. It could have happened in slow motion, with his legs kicking and flailing in mid air.  
  
Everyone stared for a moment, in stunned silence, and then burst into wild applause. 'You GO, Simon!'  
  
'Woot! Turner got DUNKED!'  
  
I beamed.  
  
Scott resurfaced, looking livid. His gelled hair was plastered to his forehead, and his lip was quivering. He splashed about, trying not to sink in his heavy clothes. Beads of water flew everywhere.  
  
Whoa . . . The dude sure was pissed off . . .  
  
'You BITCH!' he gurgled, 'This jacket's bloody Armani!'  
  
'Well, you shouldn't have worn it too a pool party, then,' I said lightly, crossing my arms smugly. I tossed my hair. 'Don't touch my ass, Scott.'  
  
His mates were falling about laughing. It was way funny. I chuckled at him, and walked away, shaking my head knowingly. Well, at least someone thought my ass was worth touching. That was something. Even if the someone in question was a nobody.  
  
'Suze!'  
  
I turned around, and there, CeeCee and Adam were running towards me. Well, CeeCee not as enthusiastic as Adam, but yeah, whatever. She'd been acting way weird ever since that thing with Paul. And I hadn't even talked to her about it . . . I just couldn't bring it up myself even. What would I say? CeeCee is the defender of science everywhere.  
  
'You just dumped Turner in a pool. Are you a goddess?' Adam wanted to know, and shuffled to his knees. 'I bow before you, oh boldest one . . . with strong arm muscles.'  
  
'Get up,' I smiled, and gave him a hug. CeeCee smiled softly. 'Hey Suze,' she greeted shortly.  
  
'Hi,' I replied. 'Avoid Kelly, you two. She was on a warpath when I told her I'd invited the two of you.'  
  
'Of course,' Adam said sourly, 'We ain't cool.'  
  
'You are way cool,' I frowned, 'Just, in an uncool way.'  
  
CeeCee looked around. 'Wow, there's a lot of people from RLS here, aye?'  
  
'Huh?'  
  
'Robert Louis Stevensen,' she said, 'Duh? Our rival school?'  
  
'Oh,' I said, 'them.'  
  
It was true. Just in this courtyard of forty kids, majority was from RLS. And in the house, well, there were heaps in there, too. But I didn't exactly want to go and check all the rooms for a survey or anything, if you catch my drift . . .  
  
Yeah, I had a feeling that the SERIOUS couples were kind of in there.  
  
'Get a room,' CeeCee snapped to a duo intensely pashing it off. They turned and gave her a who-the-hell-are-you? look, and then continued.  
  
'Suze, what's this I hear about Brad and Debbie?' CeeCee asked. Again I froze.  
  
'What exactly have you heard?' I grimaced. Frankly, I didn't want to hear it.  
  
'That they're all hot and heavy in Kelly's pool shed,' Adam answered for her.  
  
One word for you: Ew.  
  
That, was the understatement of the millennium.  
  
YUCK! GROSS! WRONG! THE DOPES! EWWWWW!  
  
'No,' I said, 'Dopey's at home. He's grounded. I know he is. For calling you a fag, Adam.'  
  
Adam sneered. 'Damn straight . . . that he's grounded,' he said hurriedly, 'not that I'm a fag, obviously.  
  
CeeCee shrugged. 'Check for yourself, Simon.'  
  
I gave her a look.  
  
'What? You don't believe it? Go see then.'  
  
Fair enough. Trying to keep all my dinner as far down in my stomach as possibly, I walked over to the pool shed, through all the bushes, and peaked through the window.  
  
Thank God. Both of them were still fully clothed. Hang on – erase that, due to the fact that Dopey had just ripped off his shirt. But yeah, they were only, I can safely say, kissing.  
  
And Dopey was GROUNDED!  
  
But, since when did I really want to go and see the Dopes make out? Now, struggling not to tarnish the window with vomit, I backed away, plainly disgusted. I kept backing away, right until I fell butt-first into the bushes, where I rescued myself from drowning completely in shrubbery by grabbing onto these spiky plants. I pulled myself up by them, and stumbled back into civilization.  
  
'Well? Horizontal action?' Adam gulped, holding his stomach at the ready.  
  
'Yeah, but not what you think. Strictly tongue hockey,' I reported, scratching my hands.  
  
I pulled them over to a quieter area – CeeCee and Adam, not my hands, well, okay, them too obviously – where there were only a few shady RLS guys, but no one else, and was about to sit down, when someone tapped me gently on the shoulder.  
  
I spun around, alarmed.  
  
It was one of the RSL guys. He was, like, taller than me, and was totally wearing this silk tee and pants, and even this little chain around his neck. I blinked. Er, was he serious with the outfit? It was a bit New Jersey, right?  
  
'Hi,' he said in the softest voice that I've ever heard – well, on a guy, Adrianna's was softer.  
  
Again, I blinked. 'Er, hi . . .' I said slowly.  
  
'Do you want to dance?' he asked.  
  
I stared at him. 'No, I'm right,' I said awkwardly. I felt bad about turning him down. I mean, he didn't seem like a pig like Eddie or Scott, but still. I'm Jesse's girl.  
  
Even if my Rico is in Spain.  
  
I was horrified with myself.  
  
Suze! Don't call him that! He . . . he called him that!  
  
'Oh . . . ' he said, disappointed. 'Well, okay.' He turned and walked coolly – but not cockily – back over to his friends. They talked in quiet voices, and kept looking at me.  
  
'Suze? Why'd you do that for?' CeeCee wanted to know.  
  
'I . . . I can't dance,' I lied.  
  
'Whatever, Simon. Is it because of Jesse? I mean, seriously, Suze, the guy's in Spain. He's not going to know.'  
  
I snapped.  
  
'Why does everyone want me to cheat on my boyfriend?!' I exploded, 'Do you have a problem with Jesse, CeeCee? Is that it?'  
  
CeeCee stared at me. 'You're the one with the problem, Suze.' She sounded . . . hurt.  
  
I jammed my eyes shut, and walked away.  
  
'Wait!'  
  
For God's sake . . .  
  
'What do you want, Kelly?' I asked, miffed.  
  
Kelly stood there in her lycra mini and her skimpy leopard skinned tank top, looking murderous. She snatched my by the elbow and hauled me into her house, into the bathroom.  
  
'Okay,' she said irately, 'Why?'  
  
'Er, being specific has been known to help in this situation, you –'  
  
'Reject him!' she yelled squeakily.  
  
'Who the –'  
  
'That hot guy who asked you to dance!' she raged on. In high-pitched tones, might I add. Seriously, who needs the Comedy Channel when you can watch Kelly Prescott's eyes bulge like that?  
  
'Him?' I laughed unsmilingly, 'Nah, I didn't feel like dancing.'  
  
Her eyes went from popping to slits of bile. 'Look, Simon. I've had an eye on this guy. And no New York bimbo is going to stand in my way. You go out there and dance with him.'  
  
I stared.  
  
'Er, Kell? Logic much? Let's recap: You like a guy, he asks other girl to dance. Girl refuses. You blow up at girl, because you like guy. You tell girl to dance with guy, because you like guy? Shouldn't you be asking guy to dance? Are we getting the shittiness of your strategy here?'  
  
'I just . . . I just want him to have a good time!' she stressed, clenching her perfectly manicured hands. 'Just dance with him! One dance. It doesn't mean a thing with you and Jesse!'  
  
Sing, Black Eyed Peas, "Where is the sanity?" (A/N: You know who they are, right?)  
  
'Kelly, I still don't get –'  
  
'Just do it,' she spat, so intensely, I thought the mirror was going to shatter just to emphasize her point or something. And it was nothing like the Nike ads, either. It was more like Satan saying to Eve when she felt guilty about taking the Forbidden fruit.  
  
I rolled my eyes. 'Yeah, whatever. Don't pull a muscle or whatever.'  
  
She relaxed. 'Well, I'm glad we got that sorted. Have a nice night,' she said, and let me out of the bathroom.  
  
~*~  
  
'Would you like to dance?'  
  
He was asking me again, on Kelly's deadly orders.  
  
I shrugged, and kind of reddened a little.  
  
'Look,' I said delicately, 'I don't even know your name.'  
  
He grinned. 'It's Tad,' he said in that impossibly soft voice.  
  
He – Tad – led me out to where everyone was dancing. It was a slow song. He placed one hand on the small of my back, and the other on my shoulder. I rested mine around his neck. Now, me, being a far better dancer than say, a month ago, I swayed expertly to the music. Though, seeing it was only slow dancing, you can't give me too much credit.  
  
His breath fluttered on my cheek. And, you know, it was kind of cold in that swimsuit. So it was really very nice, with his warm hands touching me gently like that. In a total non-adulterous way though. No, me good girl. Me Jesse's girl.  
  
I gulped. I felt guilty at how much I was enjoying this. Breath smoothly entered my lungs, and departed them with identical ease. If only . . . if only this was Jesse. I wondered what he was doing now.  
  
Probably getting a lecture from Cora about how much of a slut I was? I'm willing to bet . . . I sighed in a downcast way.  
  
The song ended as calmly as it had begun. His hands slid off me, and he stepped back. 'Thank you,' was all he said. He returned to his friends.  
  
I stared after him.  
  
All of a sudden, though, my thought's were broken by the shrill scream of one of the party-goers.  
  
'Help! Help, someone! I think she's DEAD!'  
  
My luck, huh?  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
Oooh, spooky . . .  
  
Long reviews? Love 'em. Love YOU! REVIEW NOW!!! Or else . . . muahahaha!  
  
Regards,  
  
MystAngel. 


	3. Endless Nightmares

You people rule the world . . . Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Um, I'll see how much of this I can write tonight. I don't have a clue how this chapter's going to turn out, but I'll see . . .  
  
Oh, and Sky? Paul's MINE. Leather and all. So lust after him all you want, ha. Nerdy ner! Hehehe . . . Natasha . . . *insert evil laugh here.*  
  
And Corcra? . . . uh, um . . . *not thinking of anything witty to say* . . . ha ha.  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
'Help! Help, someone! I think she's DEAD!'  
  
I choked on my breath. Dead? At a party? Immediately, I followed the sound of the scream. It seemed it be from quite a while away.  
  
CeeCee rushed up to me, pursued by Adam. They both looked freaked. 'You heard that too?' they asked as I was running through the bushes. The person was still screaming. I burst through a tall hedge, and landed with catlike grace on the floor . . .  
  
. . . Face to face with a very with face.  
  
I stood up, very quickly.  
  
'Thank God!' someone shrieked. This chick, who must have been from RLS, fell into me. She was clinging onto my arms with such force my circulation seemed non-existent anymore. Ow?  
  
'She's dead! Call an ambulance! TARA'S DE-E-E-E-EAD!' she howled at me, tears dribbling from her sealed eyes. Her forehead was wrinkled in pain.  
  
'Shhhh,' I soothed, and patted her awkwardly on the back. Compassion? Not my forte. Nah, I'm more gifted with the butt kicking stuff. I couldn't see why, if "Tara" was dead, an ambulance was needed so urgently. Okay, fair's fair. It could have turned out all right. But I doubted that. I looked over at the girl on the ground. Her eyes, they were literally grey. Like a dead fish. Sunken, lifeless . . .  
  
CeeCee squatted, and placed two trembling fingers to the girl's wrist.  
  
'She's got no pulse,' she stated in a low, strangled voice.  
  
I felt sick. The girl wailed even louder. Adam stumbled over, and pried from fingers from my arms. She screamed louder, and crumbled to the ground, my hands clawed and her body tense. Adam settled next to her, holding her around the shoulders consolingly.  
  
He was going to be a great dad . . .  
  
It was funny how I could think like this in such a situation . . .  
  
'CeeCee,' I said. My voice sounded high and demanding. 'Do you know how she died?'  
  
She frowned. I could just make out her trembling hands. 'No . . . She's very pale, though. And she's got blood on her sweater,' she pointed to a few drops on the girl's chest. 'She could have been dumped here. Maybe she lost a lot of blood somewhere else, and they abandoned her out here . . . ' she trailed off.  
  
Tara, her eyes . . . Grey . . . She was a pretty girl, too. Well, would have been when she was alive, anyway. Her hair was light brown, and seemed freshly washed.  
  
'No,' I said. 'She came here for the party. She wasn't dumped. But she looks like she's been dead for ages . . .'  
  
The girl shrieked into the night, struggling against Adam. He held her, still trying to make her stop crying. By now, a few people were filtering through the trees to check out what was going on. They froze when they saw the body.  
  
No . . . Tara. She was a girl . . . Don't call her that . . .  
  
A tall RLS guy gasped when he saw Tara. He looked over at the crying girl, and his face went blank. He ran over to her.  
  
'Emily! Em, come on, come with me . . . ' he stood her up, thanking Adam briefly, and guided her away.  
  
I stared at everyone. All they were doing was looking. Like it was something interesting. That was SICK.  
  
'A girl is dead!' I yelled at them, my voice shuddering. 'Has any of you had the freakin' sense to 911?'  
  
They all stared at me, looking very stiff and expressionless. Then, a guy with blond hair slowly withdrew a little cell phone from his pocket. All eyes were on him as he dialed.  
  
'Hello?'  
  
I saw his lips moving, but I didn't hear him. CeeCee's shaking was getting worse, and Adam just wasn't moving at all.  
  
'Yeah,' the blond dude finished off. 'Be here in five. Thanks.'  
  
~*~  
  
Adam drove us home. Dopey, I think, got Scott or someone to give him a ride, so he could sneak in while no one was looking. That's what I heard, any way.  
  
We sat in silence in Adam's car. I was in the back seat with CeeCee. She wasn't moving much. I think she was in shock at seeing a real dead body. I suppose it was very traumatic for her. I was a little shaken up, but no biggie for me. But still . . .  
  
'Did you see her eyes?'  
  
CeeCee had broken the silence. It seemed like a crime when she did it, like she'd shattered something sacred.  
  
'Yeah,' I replied.  
  
Silence.  
  
It continued until we dropped CeeCee off at her house. Adam and I watched her walk up to her front door. Then he called me into the front seat.  
  
'So, Suze,' he said awkwardly, 'Did she come back? As a . . . a you know.'  
  
'A ghost?' I asked.  
  
'Yeah, that.'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Oh.'  
  
He drove on. I stared ahead determinedly. 'Have you seen Paul since, you know that date with De Silva?'  
  
I turned to him. 'N-No . . . Why do you ask?'  
  
'Well, I'm just making sure he's not giving you trouble again,' he said. I smiled at him. He was so sweet. So stupid . . .  
  
'Like you could so anything if he was,' I smirked. And I proceeded to tell him about Paul's new leather exterior. Of course, leaving out the bit where I though he actually looked somewhat yummy. Adam seemed to find it funny, and asked how I thought leather would do him. I gave him a look, and, embarrassed, he apologized and kept driving.  
  
'Well, home.'  
  
'I guess.'  
  
'Adam?'  
  
'Yeah?'  
  
I smiled. 'Thanks. For everything.'  
  
~*~  
  
'You know you've felt it before, Susie . . .'  
  
Fingers running up and down my spine . . . I shivered. Coldness was caressing me horribly. All I could see was his eyes.  
  
Ice.  
  
'I know that there's something between us. It's dangerous, and burning. It tears you up inside. Clouds your heart with evil. But you know it's inside you, this feeling. You want me. I know you do. You want me more than you could ever imagine . . . So give in. Stop fighting this. Come and get what you want. What you deserve . . .'  
  
Hands closed down on my arms, forcing me against him. I gasped, not being able to tear my eyes away from his. I couldn't breathe anymore. I didn't seem to need to. As if I were dead. A ghost.  
  
Like him.  
  
'Stay away from me,' I warned with a shuddering breath.  
  
He smirked and moved his head down so it was right beside my ear. And then he whispered, 'I'll never stay away . . . I'll never leave . . .'  
  
'Stop.'  
  
'Never, Susie.' He kissed my neck gently, squeezing my back so it hurt me. I was arched into him. I moaned, but I couldn't fight him off me. This intimacy was killing me. It ached like no physical pain could.  
  
'Stop,' I repeated, breathless. He did not. His hands moved to my hips and ran up my sides. I shivered uncontrollably. He gripped me ever closer into him. I couldn't get away. Trust me, I tried.  
  
'Feel it Suze. As soon as you do, I'll stop,' he panted, still kissing me on my neck. My head felt back in a silent moan. I closed my eyes, and opened my mouth, my tongue rolling back slowly. Oh, it felt good, but so intensely evil. It froze me, his lips on my skin. Burnt like the coldest ice . . .  
  
'No. Don't. Leave,' I begged.  
  
He stopped, and glared into my eyes. 'Not until you admit it, Suze.' His lips were shaking in anger. My eyes were wide.  
  
'I could never love you,' I said aggressively, but he cut me off by drawing me in for a deep, fiery kiss that I felt to the innermost corner of my soul. Felt the pain of, not the love of, I mean. I tried to remain unresponsive, but it was too hard. I kissed him back . . .  
  
He smirked triumphantly against my lips. 'I knew it was there,' he said quickly, and resumed.  
  
Horrified with myself, I pushed down on his arms and fell away from him. 'No!' I screamed, 'Nothing is there! Leave me alone! Stop doing this, please!' I squirmed away from him, but he fell on top of me. Again, I couldn't breathe.  
  
'I won't, Suze. I'll haunt you until you confess that you love me. Jesse, he's just an excuse to hide this passion you have. You know it's there. You know it. Feel it,' he snarled. I was shaking so bad now. So cold . . . his touch was ice.  
  
'I love Jesse,' I spat.  
  
'Wrong answer,' he shrugged, and slugged me across the face.  
  
Blue eyes . . .  
  
~*~  
  
'Shit!' I panted, rolling over on my bed. I felt my face, to discover I was sweating again.  
  
Oh . . . This was torture. It was killing me.  
  
. . . Why did I keep having these nightmares? WHY?!  
  
I settled myself back on my pillow, and closed my eyes reluctantly. I didn't want to go back to sleep. I didn't want to return to him, where I couldn't escape . . .  
  
That's when the screaming started.  
  
I'm serious! It gave me a bloody heart attack! I literally fell out of my bed in shock. And that was no picnic. I was twisted in my covers and everything. As soon as I had managed to detach myself from my evil blankie, I stood up with a WAY peed off face.  
  
A woman in her early forties was there. She had a faint white glow around her, which could only mean one thing.  
  
Another client. A ghost . . .  
  
Oh, happy day.  
  
'What do you want?' I demanded.  
  
She stopped screeching, and looked at me, not saying a word. Her dirty blond hair swayed sadly by her slightly skeletal face. It would have done her a bit of good to have had a meat pie when she was alive. She looked freaking anorexic.  
  
I glowered. 'Well? Sorry, lady, I'm really not in the mood to be screamed at. I would actually scream back, but you know, people will actually HEAR me.' Ouch, I was mean . . . Her eyes welled up. I instantly felt bad.  
  
I sighed. 'Look, I'm sorry. I'm just in a pooey mood. Tell me what it is you want.'  
  
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She really was pretty, in a hippyish, gaunt way.  
  
'Tell Red he didn't kill me,' she sniveled.  
  
'Okay,' I said, 'and –'  
  
Wait, backtrack?  
  
'He DIDN'T kill you? Huh?' I said. I mean, usually it was the other way around, right?  
  
'He blames himself!' she blubbered. 'He is tearing up inside.'  
  
Tearing up inside . . .  
  
"You know you feel something . . . It's inside you . . . you want me, Suze . . . "  
  
NEVER.  
  
'. . . He thinks it's his fault. Tell him it's not . . . '  
  
"It's not like that . . . "  
  
"Oh, Suze, I think it's EXACTLY like that . . . "  
  
'Tell him, please . . . '  
  
"Tell me . . . admit it."  
  
'Thank you,' she said as she dematerialized with a glittering shower of blue.  
  
'Wait!' I hissed. 'Who the hell is Red? And who the hell are you?'  
  
Shit! She was gone . . . Oooh, I'm SUCH a bad mediator! Or shifter! Or human, or WHATEVER I am! Jesus . . . I should lose my mediating license, right?  
  
~*~  
  
'She was just dead then?'  
  
Father Dom was studying my face carefully. His snowy hair gleamed in the office light. His white priest robes emphasized his "I'm a good boy" characteristic. He was pretty good-looking for an old guy. But he wasn't what I'd go for. Ha . . . Maybe my grandma?  
  
(A/N: Sky . . . remember that little thing with Paul and Father D right about here. LMAO)  
  
'Who?'  
  
He rolled his eyes. 'This Tara person.'  
  
I shrugged. 'Well, I didn't exactly stick around to have a cup of tea with the coroner,' I said sourly.  
  
Reason I was sour?  
  
That honour would go to my hands.  
  
Yes, my fungus, peeling, oozing, red, scaly, lumpy, POISON-OAKY hands.  
  
That's right. NO ONE told me about poison oak. Palm trees? Dandy. But not poison oak! Where's the justice in this world? Why to people enjoy my suffering? It's not fair, I tell you!  
  
'Not, killed?' he asked.  
  
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I've got a theory that she came for the party, was killed somewhere else, and was dumped there. But that's just me. She had blood on her sweater, you see.' I smiled slightly. How observant of me, right?  
  
'Nothing else?'  
  
Well, padre obviously didn't think so. Joy . . .  
  
'What? I'm not Adrian Monk,' I snapped. 'I don't pick up little clues and piece them together. I'm not some super detective. Gimme a break. I was there to have a good time. Yeah, in order for that to happen, Scott Turner got tossed into a swimming pool, but still –'  
  
'Susannah. Please slow down?' he groaned, and readjusted his glassed. I blushed.  
  
'All I know is she is dead,' I said shortly. What? I was SO not about to repeat myself all over again. I'll wear my voice out . . .  
  
'Susannah,' he said seriously.  
  
I scratched energetically at the rash on the back of both my hands. It was driving me CRAZY.  
  
'Yeah?' I said distractedly.  
  
'Aren't you going to tell me about Paul?' Father Dom wanted to know.  
  
I slipped off the chair.  
  
'Ow?' I called from beneath the desk. I resurfaced with an ugly look. Father Dom was astonished. 'Are you quite all right?' he asked, his eyebrows very, very high. I got back into my chair, blushing furiously.  
  
'Me fine,' I said quickly. 'Isn't the weather great –'  
  
'Kindly do not change the subject,' he said with light irritation. He stared at me fixedly.  
  
'No, that's not a subject I'm at liberty to discuss,' I said squeakily. What? He caught me off guard.  
  
'Susannah. There's something going on between you and this, well, ghost that I need to know. Jesse has told me – '  
  
'Told you WHAT?!'  
  
'-Very little,' he finished, disappointed. 'I thought that we had a more open relationship than this, Susannah. I must say that I'm not happy.'  
  
'Well, I'm sorry. But it's a big secret. So shhhh.' I placed my finger to my lips.  
  
He wasn't impressed.  
  
'Susannah,' he said, in a slightly sterner voice. 'I really think that Jesse going to Spain, well, I don't know. You are being very secretive, and . . . difficult.'  
  
'Joy,' I muttered, rubbing at my demented hands.  
  
'Please, I'm being perfectly serious,' he said. 'I think that you are being foolish, not telling me. That way there is nothing I can do to help.'  
  
'I don't need help,' I said. 'I'm fine on my own. Really.'  
  
He gave me a look.  
  
'Really,' I stressed. 'I can handle ghosts fine.'  
  
~*~  
  
'Don't you DARE TOUCH MY HAIR AGAIN!' I roared as I beat up this 200 pound ghost in the cemetery. He was this total Skid-Road guy with a BAD smell and dirty long hair. And he was strong. He groaned as I kicked him in the chest. He fell back and cracked a headstone in two. Poo Margaret Thatcher. No disrespect or anything, babe. But this is WAR.  
  
'Mediators are evil,' he grunted, and totally punched my in the stomach, sending me flying against this big gravestone. I whined. He came up and whacked me on the side of the head.  
  
'Bastard!' I snapped, and kicked him. But it wasn't enough . . .  
  
'Mediators must die,' he declared, picking up the jagged headstone of the late Mrs Thatcher, and aiming it at my heart.  
  
Can handle 'em just fine? Was I on CRACK?!  
  
'No,' I said with wide eyes. The end . . .  
  
When!  
  
. . . Someone dived at him! Well, to them, dived at a floating headstone. Which was equally as weird. But yeah.  
  
It was . . .  
  
No, not Paul.  
  
No, not Jesse.  
  
But . . .  
  
'Adam?' I shouted, 'Get the hell out of here!'  
  
He grabbed the lethal headstone and took off out of site, robbing Fat Dude of his weapon. Jesus . . . Sometimes I regret telling him about this whole mediating thing. He's gonna get himself bloody killed soon.  
  
'You NERD,' I yelled, and did this very cool fly kick. He landed on this spear-like headstone, and roared in agony.  
  
'No! Vile, wicked Mediator! Burn!' he cried, and promptly dematerialized.  
  
Now, that's what I'm talkin' bout.  
  
I wiped my hands, and filled my lungs . . .  
  
'ADAM! GET YOUR BUTT HERE!!!'  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Glue . . . I know . . .  
  
REVIEW NOW!!!!!  
  
MystAngel. 


	4. Chionophobia

Okay, I'm back . . . I have absolutely no plan whatsoever for what is going to happen in this chapter, unfortunately. So bear with me here . . .  
  
Disclaimer: No lyrics from this chapter belong to me. They belong to Evanescence. The song is called "Haunted."  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Suze's POV  
  
Adam slid from behind the tall tree amidst the gravestones, grinning broadly.  
  
'You saw that, right?' he checked, inclining his head cockily. He was obviously deeply impressed with himself.  
  
I was not.  
  
'Adam, what the HELL is wrong with you?!' I shouted, shoving him in the chest.  
  
He looked astonished. 'What? What are you on about? I just saved your life! With the floating headstone, and . . . and the floating headstone – '  
  
'You could have got yourself killed,' I snapped at him. 'It was a stupid thing to do, Adam! These ghosts aren't for playing fair. He would have totally turned onto you, regardless of whether you're a stupid mediator or not! Don't ever do it again!' I seethed.  
  
He was very pale. 'I . . . I'm sorry . . . ' Oh, Jeez . . . He wasn't expecting this reaction, I guess. 'Actually,' he snapped, 'I'm not, Suze. I'm not sorry for saving your life. I actually like you living, thanks. So make of it whatever. I don't give.'  
  
Now I was the one shocked. I mean, whoa.  
  
I deflated totally and sighed. 'Okay, fine then. You helped me out. I'm grateful. But I am so serious, dude. You don't know what you're dealing with, okay? Just don't do it again. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want any of my friends to get hurt. See why I keep this thing a secret?' And it was true. If anyone did end up believing me, they'd want to help fight ghosts, just like Adam. And they'd end up as one.  
  
A ghost, I mean.  
  
Or worse . . . nothing.  
  
He shrugged. You could so tell he was still pissed. What? He was an idiot for running out and grabbing that headstone. So what if Mr. Skid Road had been about to shove it through my cranium? That was no reason for Adam to virtually commit suicide!  
  
But still . . . No one's ever done that for me . . .  
  
No one's had the opportunity. Except Jesse. But Jesse has an obligation. Some Spanish gentleman thing he has.  
  
Oh, and we're kind of dating.  
  
Yeah, that always helps.  
  
Adam was totally offended, though. 'I'm so glad you appreciate me,' he growled, and walked silently away, his shoulders hunched a bit. I rolled my eyes. For God's sake. Why did people insist I feel guilty? It wasn't fair . . . So, I didn't want my friend dead. Was that such a crime?  
  
. . . But he didn't want his friend dead either, Suze.  
  
Oh yeah . . .  
  
'Adam, wait!' I yelled. But he was already gone.  
  
~*~  
  
'And the average temperature of Ballarat, Australia, is?' Mr Walden was asking. Some nerd at the front answered perfectly. Oh wait, CeeCee put her hand up too, so just ignore that last sentence.  
  
'Very good,' Mr Walden smiled. 'Ballarat's snowfall – '  
  
That was when I saw CeeCee seize up totally, with this huge gasp. Everyone turned to her in shock, and in Kelly's case, disdain. But God . . . her purple eyes were so wide, as if she'd just had a heart attack.  
  
'Cee, what's wrong?' I asked in a desperate harsh whisper. Was she having a fit, or something? Oh, God!  
  
But she was okay. As quickly as it had happened, she relaxed. Although, everyone was still staring at her. She frowned, holding her head. 'Mr Walden, could I go see the nurse? Heart condition,' she said gingerly.  
  
Mr Walden touched his nose and nodded. CeeCee rushed out of the classroom. Immediately, I stood up.  
  
'Susannah? Where are you going?' he wanted to know.  
  
'I'm going to see I CeeCee's all right,' I said. 'She's my friend.'  
  
He stared at me. I SO thought he was going to tell me to sit right back down, but Walden's a good bloke. 'Okay, hurry . . . ' he muttered, and slipped me two hall passes, one for CeeCee who'd rushed out of the classroom before he'd had the chance to give her one.  
  
I strolled casually out the door and closed it behind me, before running at full speed after CeeCee who was about thirty seconds ahead. 'CeeCee!' I yelled.  
  
A group of tourists who were staring up at the headless statue of Juniperro Sera in confusion – wondering if he had been historically guillotined – looked at me in alarm. I bit my lip. CeeCee stood staring at me in wonder.  
  
'What are you doing?' she wanted to know.  
  
'I'm seeing if you are okay,' I said. 'That was really weird back in class, with the heart clutching and the big eyes and the – '  
  
'It's nothing,' she dismissed, turning from me. 'Go back to class. You might miss something.'  
  
'Thus the appeal of seeing if you all right,' I rolled my eyes. 'Come on . . .'  
  
'Suze I'm f-'  
  
'Snow!'  
  
She screamed. I am SO serious. She literally screamed when I said the word "snow." Like I'd threatened her with a gun. Now the tourists were eyeing her with interest. After getting over the shock, she avoided my eyes.  
  
'So, what? You have a fear of snow?' I asked.  
  
She winced. 'Yeah . . . that's it . . . uh, Chionophobia, it's called.' I noticed with interest that her breath had quickened remarkably. Whoa . . . way to react to a four letter word that wasn't a swear word . . .  
  
But seriously . . . a fear of snow? What the hell?  
  
'When did this fear start?' I asked her, with the smallest wry smile.  
  
'Oh, don't go all therapist on me,' she snapped, and turned away. I continued to stare. She sighed and sat down on one of the benches in the courtyard.  
  
'You don't have a fear of snow,' I said slowly, realizing. 'Do you.'  
  
She burying her pale face in her hands. 'What's it to you?'  
  
I put my hand on her shoulder. 'You can so tell me,' I said. 'Please . . .'  
  
She shrugged me off. 'Nah, it's just too . . . too weird,' she squeaked, and glared ahead into space.  
  
Ha . . . don't I know about that line?  
  
'Dude, I've seen things that are weirder than you could ever imagine,' I said lightly. 'I guarantee, NOTHING will freak me out.'  
  
'But, it just doesn't make any –' she cut herself off, and looked at me. 'Suze, do you believe in ghosts?'  
  
I choked.  
  
'What?' I asked her wildly.  
  
She looked horrified with herself. 'I knew I was stupid to tell you. Duh, of course you don't. I don't either, but I just remember something, and it seemed to real, but it was probably just some munted day dream or something and I know you now think I'm a loser but please –'  
  
'CeeCee!' I snapped. She broke off, looking alarmed. 'Babbling is strictly my job,' I scowled. She grinned feebly. 'I'm not high, Simon. It's just . . . you wouldn't understand,' she said instead angrily.  
  
Then I remembered with a painful flash . . .  
  
". . . Oh, don't give me all the credit. A certain Miss Snow White revealed your little tryst, with some somewhat painful persuasion . . . "  
  
Oh my God . . . No . . .  
  
How could I have only just realized this?!  
  
I clapped my hand to my mouth in horror. No, Paul. You didn't. Please tell me you didn't . . .  
  
But he did. He'd affected her. He'd showed himself as a ghost. And CeeCee had taken badly to it.  
  
'Whoa,' I said, and gave her a hug. When I let go, she was staring at me weirdly, her white eyebrows hiked right up.  
  
'Er . . . Simon?' she checked, 'Are YOU feeling okay?'  
  
I blinked at her grimly. 'He appeared to you, didn't he?'  
  
Her eyes, very briefly, went very wide. But then she looked casual. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Simon.'  
  
'Do,' I protested in a low voice. 'You've seen him too, haven't you?'  
  
She shook her head at me, so her white hair skimmed her shoulders crisply. 'What are you on about –'  
  
'CeeCee, I don't think you're screwy,' I said softly. 'You saw a ghost. I've . . . I've seen him too . . . '  
  
Her mouth fell open.  
  
'My God,' she said breathlessly. 'We're both nuts . . . '  
  
Okay, that wasn't quite the reaction I was aiming for, ya know? I twitched slightly with irritation.  
  
'All I am saying,' I said, 'is that you're not the only one who's seen him. Admit it.'  
  
She shook her head at me again. 'No . . . saw nothing.'  
  
'Snow White,' I glared at her.  
  
She shut her eyes forcibly. 'Don't,' she pleaded. 'Don't say that . . .'  
  
'That's what he called you, right?' I asked. 'He called you Snow White. Because you're albino.'  
  
Her eyes were still shut. I noticed that her hands were shaking again. Just like last night, when we'd found Tara.  
  
Dead.  
  
She'd seen a dead body.  
  
CeeCee nodded very gently. 'Yeah,' she mouthed. 'He called me that.' She opened her lavenders, and looked at me with fearful anxiety. 'Suze, he scared me . . . I don't know why, but he did. He asked me these things about you and Jesse, and, well, I had to tell him.'  
  
'Mmm,' I mused. 'You almost got me killed.'  
  
She blanched. Well, went paler than she already was.  
  
'W-what?' she spluttered, aghast.  
  
Oops, I wasn't meant to say that out loud. 'Not that I blame you,' I jumbled, 'He freaks me out too. But he so tried to off me and Jesse. He came this close –' I held up my thumb and my index ringer a centimeter apart from each other, in front of her eyes '- to killing me. It was so scary . . .'  
  
She was now, it was plain to see, appalled with herself. 'I almost killed you?' she squeaked.  
  
'No!'  
  
'But you just said –'  
  
'CeeCee, Paul's the type of guy who knows how to get what he wants,' I explained to her horrified white face, 'And he shouldn't have done what he did to you, whatever that was. I don't know. But yeah. He would have found some other way to find me,' I assured her.  
  
Her eyes were glazed over. 'I am so sorry,' she whispered. 'I didn't want to believe it happened. I have never believed in ghosts, Suze. Never. Not even, well, God,' she added under her breath as a novice sauntered by. We flashed our hall passes, and sticking her nose up, she continued on. 'But this, this is big. Ghosts. Real ghosts,' she said, her voice going raspy. 'And I almost killed you. I can't believe it.'  
  
Whoa, she was looking messed up over the whole thing all right. I'd go as far as to say, traumatized. Her pallid forehead was creased in deep dismay. This was really disturbing her. I mean, REALLY. She looked close to tears. And for as long as I've known CeeCee, she hasn't cried in her life.  
  
Well, so Adam says.  
  
'Oh, Cee,' I clicked my tongue, and again, pulled her into a hug. This time, she didn't think I was acting like a freak of nature.  
  
So that was why she got scared when she heard the word "snow" . . .  
  
Paul was really going to get his own some day.  
  
He'd reduced one of the strongest people I knew to tears. Emotional disarray.  
  
He'd gone too far.  
  
~*~  
  
No, not again . . .  
  
'I told you I'm not leaving . . . '  
  
Once again, I was trapped in a land of mist and darkness. I place where I couldn't escape. No . . . not again . . .  
  
Numbed terror burnt within my heart, and a terrible, chilling hand had again, seized my throat. I felt as though I couldn't breathe again. It was oh so familiar. But I didn't want it to be. I wanted it to end . . . I didn't want to see his face like this, acting around him like this.  
  
I wanted him out of my life. Out of my head!  
  
'But I'm apart of you, Suze. It's what I've been trying to tell you . . . '  
  
His lips formed these deadly words to perfection. Pure, yet heavily polluted with evil. Painful, enticing words that bound me to the spot.  
  
'Apart of me?' I scoffed, with no less fear, 'Get ripped, Paul.'  
  
A knowing smirk tugged at his lips. 'Suze, Suze . . . ' he hissed in my ear. Fog enclosed us and chilled me to the bone. My fingers were like ice, and the cold stung my cheeks.  
  
'I'm inside you, Suze. You're inside of me too . . . haven't you wondered why you've been speaking to me? Thinking about me? Dreaming about me . . . ' he said in a slow-burning tone, again pulling me into him. I groaned. It happened every night, but it never stopped hurting. Never.  
  
~*~  
  
. . . Long lost words whisper slowly to me  
  
still can't find what keeps me here  
  
when all this time I've been so hollow inside  
  
I know you're still there . . .  
  
~*~  
  
'What do you mean?' I gasped as he pushed my head against his chest gently. I didn't want to be this close to him, ever. This wasn't real, Suze. None of this is real. It's a nightmare.  
  
'It's not, you know,' he smirked. Well, I couldn't see, but I could feel him smirking against my head. My scalp froze at the touch of this lips. It sent my brain in to a fast, throbbing whir. My whole body ached from the cold.  
  
If this was just a nightmare, why was the pain so real? Why did it hurt so much? The pain, and the knowledge? Why?!  
  
'I'm in your system,' he went on. 'You're craving me, Suze. I told you that you loved me. How could you be thinking these thoughts if you didn't? In the very least you're attracted to me, but I can sense something more.' He stroked the side of my face with a long, cold finger that left a trail of ice on my cheek. 'It's hurting you. Tearing you up inside. But it's there. If only you'd let lose, and allow yourself to feel what you do for me . . . '  
  
He's lying . . .  
  
Messing with my mind again . . . Don't listen.  
  
~*~  
  
Watching me, wanting me  
  
I can feel you pull me down.  
  
Fearing you, loving you,  
  
I won't let you pull me down.  
  
~*~  
  
'Deep down, you know you feel. It's real, Suze. You can't ignore it for much longer, or it will kill you.'  
  
I looked up at him. My eyes connected with his steady, cold blues. They stared at me, trying to explore me, trying to manipulate my thoughts. But I wasn't letting him enter. My mind, I mean. God, I wasn't letting him enter me full stop. Ew . . . ever so slightly wrong there . . .  
  
Above us were the alien stars. They weren't familiar. I could see no familiar constellations. Nothing to reassure me that everything was going to be all right. Because it wasn't. I knew that. If I said I didn't have feelings for Paul, he'd kill me. Slowly, too. Make me feel the pain. And if I said I did – which I SO did not! – he'd kill me anyway. And still slowly. He had a sadistic version of love.  
  
Gripping my back ever tighter, he spun me around. I was so cold . . . Fearing the cold . . . Fearing the snow! I felt so weak . . . like I was going to pass out. But since I already felt like I was in the realm of the dead, I didn't know what was going to become of me if I ever did here. I held onto consciousness, still trying to back away from Paul, but he had superior strength for a ghost, and I was . . . as weak as wet paper.  
  
Damn him . . .  
  
He chuckled darkly, stepping me back until I was against one of the doors on the foggy hallway. It went on for so long . . . Stretched on for all of eternity.  
  
'I'll give you one last chance, Suze,' he warned. His hold was tighter, more restrictive, and ever more dangerous. 'Tell me the truth about what you feel. I don't want some lie that you think will sound all virtuous. I want the truth that buried at the bottom of your heart . . . '  
  
~*~  
  
Hunting you I can smell you - alive  
  
Your heart pounding in my head . . .  
  
~*~  
  
'I love Jesse,' I snarled at him.  
  
His forehead contorted in anger. His eyes went from cold for incensed.  
  
'You have no one to blame but yourself,' he shrugged, and promptly began kissing me so hard against the door that it hurt. Bruising my lips. Constricting his hands around my wrists. Stopping my blood flow. Sharpening my senses. Making me scream . . .  
  
Killing me . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Watching me, wanting me,  
  
I can feel you pull me down.  
  
Saving me, raping me, Watching me . . .  
  
~*~  
  
'Stop!' I cried from beneath him. He was pressing himself so firmly against me it too hurt like crazy. I groaned and gasped, but he was ruthless and unyielding. Refusing to stop . . . Refusing to let me go.  
  
*Forever is a very long time . . . *  
  
'FEEL,' he yelled in my face. 'THAT'S ALL I ASK!' I didn't cry, but I was so close my eyes stung. I wouldn't give in . . . Never . . .  
  
'YOU WANT ME SO BAD!' he roared at me, shaking me. I moaned, jamming my eyes shut, going rigid. 'WE ARE CONNECTED NOW! BY SOMETHING SO POWERFUL AND SECRET JESSE COULDN'T EVEN BEGIN TO BLOODY IMAGINE, SUZE!'  
  
Stop! Please! We were NOT connected!  
  
*The kiss . . . leaving me weak . . . dimmer aura . . . dreams and nightmares . . . *  
  
'Leave, stop haunting me!' I pleaded. 'I'm trying to live, Paul. You're pulling me down. Down to your level . . . I'm above you, and don't you forget. I love Jesse. Nothing you say can change that.' I was shaking . . .  
  
Not real . . . Not real. NOT REAL!  
  
~*~  
  
Watching me...wanting me,  
  
I can feel you pull me down.  
  
Fearing you...loving you,  
  
I won't let you pull me down.  
  
~*~  
  
Won't let him . . . won't let him trick me . . . No, never . . . never give in, Suze. Don't give into him. Don't tell him the truth . . .  
  
NO! He KNOWS the truth! I love Jesse! He was playing with my mind!  
  
'Stop!' I screamed, louder than ever.  
  
And oh so predictably, I woke up, sweating. It all made sense . . .  
  
Jesse was right. Paul had done something to me.  
  
He'd drained a bit of my life.  
  
. . . I wasn't complete anymore.  
  
Wasn't all me . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ************** Done . . . I am SO tired. So excuse any mistakes, what not. It's getting worse, the dreams . . . *Drumroll.*  
  
***NOTE: PLZ READ!  
  
OKAY, the GOOD bit. I am writing an *ALL NEW fanfiction, (as in, not this one, but, it's going to be a Paul&Jesse Swap Special Edition . . . sounds good ^_^) and I want you ALL to review, writing exactly what you'd like me to include! It's a SPECIAL REQUEST PLOT! I don't usually do this, but I want ALL of your Mediator desires, okay? Paul/Suze relationships, LEATHER GET UPS, CeeCee being, I dunno, Buddhist. (Please don't do that . . . ) But I want to hear EVERYTHING so I can get ideal plot for the best people on fanfiction. You PEOPLE! You all ROCK! So, PLOT IDEAS for a NEW story, not THIS one, but still Paul is DEAD and Jesse is ALIVE!  
  
NOT ideas for this story . . . sorry going all capital on you there . . .  
  
Review! I'm hungry for your plot ideas. I want the saucy cravings, the cute little wishes, EVERYTHING!***  
  
Regards, MystAngel. 


	5. Querida

I'm baaa-aaack . . .  
  
I'm so happy! I got a HAIRCUT! Shoulder-length, red streaks, layered! It looks like a very stylish black balloon!  
  
. . . er, I think that's a good thing . . .  
  
*Now worried . . . *  
  
RE-NOTE – Anyhow! I'm sorry to say that a lot of people misunderstood my last chapter note . . . *Blushes.* When I said give me ideas, a lot of you didn't read it properly, I think, and gave me ideas for this story. I said your ideas for your ideal mediator story, just as long as it had the Paul/Jesse swap. So, I'm a little disappointed, and worried if I set it out wrong. I thought it was understandable, but I dunno . . . maybe I'm losing my touch. Hell, maybe I had no touch to begin with! WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?!  
  
So, long story short, if you could email me with the ideas you have for your IDEAL fanfic, that would be wicked. Sorry to be confusing . . .  
  
Disclaimer: Some definitions come from www.urbandictionary.com.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
Suze's POV  
  
Getting back to sleep when you've just been woken up from a horrific nightmare packed with ghastly revelations if there's a ghost screaming in your ear, you know?  
  
Because that was my deal.  
  
That thin, hippy ghost was back. She was screeching so hard that my open windows were shaking freakishly. I stared at her in alarm.  
  
'Hey,' I whispered, 'You're seriously making me consider posting office hours on my door.'  
  
She, again, stopped screaming, and looked at my with watery eyes. You know how, in those Anime shows, how the character's eyes like, wobble when they cry? It SO happens. I am way serious. They kept flickering, but it could have been because she was shaking so hard.  
  
'You didn't – didn't tell him,' she stuttered, biting her fingernails anxiously, trying to keep herself from crying again. 'He n-needs to know. He's h-hurting inside. It's k-killing h-him.'  
  
'Dude,' I said with annoyance, rubbing my blurry eyes, 'I don't know who "he" is. I can't do –'  
  
'Red,' she said desperately, bursting into tears again. 'You KNOW him! You d-did nothing to t-tell him! He b-blames himself! Please . . .' she whimpered.  
  
It broke my heart. I swear to God. The state she was in, I literally felt compassion that I haven't ever for a ghost. It was weird.  
  
'Okay,' I grumbled. 'But –'  
  
Only she kind of dematerialized then.  
  
God dammit! What is WITH her?!  
  
Jesus . . . I wished Jesse was here . . .  
  
~*~  
  
I woke up at five am. I had barely gotten any sleep, and I was pretty damn pissed. I mean, PRETTY DAMN PISSED. In an effort to disguise the leaded bags under my eyes, I caked my face with foundation. I mean, I don't usually go overboard, but this was an emergency, people. Please. I looked like a bloody gorgon!  
  
Well, okay, I still wasn't wearing half as much facial gunk as Kelly Prescott, but still.  
  
It was a lot for me.  
  
After Sleepy drove the four of us – himself, Doc, Dopey, and I – to the Mission, I met up with CeeCee.  
  
'Hey,' I smiled, and touched her shoulder, but she pulled away.  
  
'Simon? One word: ew,' she scoffed. I frowned, and looked at my hands.  
  
Oh yeah. The poison oak thing . . .  
  
'You didn't seem to notice yesterday,' I said sourly, hiding my scaly hands in my sweater.  
  
'I was distraught,' she snapped. 'I wasn't thinking properly. Don't worry, I scrubbed myself hard.'  
  
I shoved her playfully, and wiggled my puss-covered fingers in front of her eyes. She was disgusted.  
  
'Yo, Suze,' Adam sidled up next to me. He had a weird look on his face, as if he was still pissed with me. Which, by rights, he probably was.  
  
'Look Adam, I'm sorry about yesterday,' I said, trailing my hand through my hair and tossing my head slightly.  
  
He shrugged, his hands casually in his pockets. 'No biggie.'  
  
CeeCee frowned as she did her locker combination. 'Yesterday? What happened yesterday? Suze, you didn't –'  
  
'No,' I said.  
  
'Didn't what?' Adam wanted to know. CeeCee finally opened her locker, but was now staring at me accusingly.  
  
'Nothing!' I snapped.  
  
'Does it have something to do with –'  
  
'Oh for God's sake, yes! You both know. Yay! Go chat about it amongst yourselves then, see if I care,' I snarled at him, slamming CeeCee's locker door. I was out of there like a shot. Me and my lumpy hands . . .  
  
'Suze!'  
  
I spun around, breathing hard through my teeth. Debbie Mancuso looked at me with disdain. 'You seen Kelly around?'  
  
'No,' I snapped. 'Maybe she's up your –'  
  
'Ouch,' she replied. 'Cool it, Simon. Just asking. She like, so hasn't been here since that dead body thing at her party? He dad's like, blaming her and everything. It was SO unfair. I think she's getting sick from it, you know?'  
  
I tapped my foot impatiently at her.  
  
'Okay, fine, go. Have some sympathy, Jeez,' she said, surprised at my attitude. I was surprised at it too. So Adam AND CeeCee knew. Not the end of the world, right? They wouldn't tell.  
  
Well, at least I hoped . . .  
  
~*~  
  
I slid into my classroom just in tome before Miss Jaffa (Her name is Miss Jeffrey, but I learnt that like, NO ONE ever calls her that any more.) And then class she teaches?  
  
Er, that would be Sex Ed.  
  
I know, all together? EW.  
  
Look, I have Jesse, but we are so not ready for that stuff yet. I mean, I'm sixteen. Yes, I'd like to someday, but it's a bit hard, him being in, oh where was it?  
  
Uh, how about SPAIN.  
  
Long distance orgasms, totally . . . okay, I realize that was seriously wrong. What can I say? Sex Ed brings out the worst in me. It's worst that I have it with Dopey and the gang. I mean, they so crack up whenever Miss Jaffa mentions the word "erect." I mean, how bloody immature, hey? Hell, even the word "big." I mean, come ON.  
  
Ha . . . what Esmerelda De Silva said came swimming back into my mind . . . 'Jesse has a penis!' Little cutie. Emerelda, I mean. Jesse, well he's a big cutie.  
  
I looked around, and noticed to my amusement that Kelly was sitting in class, looking extra sour. As in, millions of lemons sour. Daddy dearest had obviously made her go to school when she tried to chuck a sickie. But it was fair enough. These mere mortals were not accustomed to seeing dead people. Ha, and don't I wish I was like them . . .  
  
Dopey screwed up a piece of paper and pelted it across the classroom. It ricocheted off of CeeCee's head. She didn't move, but I saw her hands clench around her pencil case. The jocks roared with laughter.  
  
I pity Brad's mother . . . it must have been so tough on her in those years of his childhood . . . Hey, I wonder how she died, anyway?  
  
'Come on guys, stop ditching stuff at the girls,' Miss Jaffa smiled as she walked in. The guys like her a lot. She has really white straight teeth, a sharp, yet attractive face, blond straight hair and wears these really cool clothes. She's like, really curvy and is, well, very endowed in the chest area, so yeah. She can get Dopey's attention any day.  
  
Uh . . .  
  
I think this class is just a series of "ew"s.  
  
Oh well, at least CeeCee and Adam were in the class as well. Save my sanity.  
  
Wait, did I just mention Adam and sanity in the same thought? Oops, forgive me. Mind you, both of them were pissed at me, weren't they? Oh, joy to the world . . .  
  
She slid cunningly onto the desk and slowly crossed one leg over the other. Damn her for having such long legs . . . grrr . . . where is the justice in this world? Why, when God was handing out all of the body parts, did I get all the reject bits? Did I like, trip over my own feet and fall down ten cloud levels, and when I finally climbed back up, all the bits were gone and they had to make do? But, if I tripped over my own feet, that would kind of defeat the purpose of getting body parts for the maker, right? Oh, I suck . . . Me and my train of thoughts. It always crashes.  
  
'Okay,' she licked her lips, and put a hand on her knee. A little of her thigh was exposed, I noticed. Scott, Dopey, Kevin, Todd and Luke were all leaning over a little for a better view. I was disgusted. No wonder Scott thinks all girls are easy. You got this total femme fatale here giving us a bad name. AND she's a teacher! Education today. Well, the concept works, right? The boys just LOVE learning for her.  
  
I made a face at CeeCee, but she turned away from me, muttering something about "Miss up-herself." Did she mean Miss Jaffa? I frowned.  
  
'So, I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you today boys,' she bared her teeth in a smile at Dopey, who looked crestfallen. 'We're having a discussion.'  
  
'No diagrams, miss?' pouted Kevin, this beefy jock with unwanted facial hair.  
  
'No diagrams, Kevin,' she cocked her head almost sympathetically. It was all a big act though. Everyone knew it. 'Today, we're talking about . . . love.'  
  
I suddenly became very interested in what she was saying.  
  
'Okay, she said with an enthusiastic smile, 'What's love, guys?'  
  
Adam's hand shot up.  
  
She looked a little disappointed. She only really liked playing up for the jocks. I could totally imagine her in the morning, in front of her mirror in this totally slutty red lacy bra, spraying on perfume saying, 'What will make Bradley Ackerman drool today, I wonder . . .'  
  
NOT a nice picture. And in the tradition of Sex Ed . . . ew.  
  
Miss Jaffa nodded at him all the name. 'Yeah, McTavish?'  
  
Adam went a bit red. OH MY GOD! BOYS, THEY'RE ALL THE SAME!!! Nevertheless, he looked determined to be the class clown.  
  
'Love is just nature's way of tricking people into reproducing,' he stated.  
  
Everyone snorted, and CeeCee looked annoyed with him, but in a good-natured way. He grinned stupidly.  
  
Todd stuck up his hand. 'Love is a tennis term, miss. Means you haven't scored a single point, due to being rubbish.'  
  
The jocks all slapped each other. My God, it wasn't even funny . . . Are they in some kind of cult?  
  
Kelly looked very interested in the discussion also. 'Love, that's the thing that comes before sex,' she said bluntly.  
  
'I don't need love, babe,' Scott boasted, grabbing his, er pants. Again with the jock slapping. It was really quite disturbing.  
  
Miss Jaffa shrugged, and shot Scott a VERY flirty smile. 'Yeah, love can be confused with lust, that's right. We'll talk about that in a sec. Anything else?'  
  
'The worst thing that will ever happen to you. The most infectious disease on the planet. It can bring life or end life. Fate is never, like, certain. It is extremely unfair and unlike in movies, the good guy NEVER gets the girl. The lying, horny, perverted one does.'  
  
Oh, lucky Paul . . .  
  
This feminist girl, I think her name was Brandi, with short blue – yes blue – hair – like Marge Simpson – added her two cents. 'Guys use love to get sex. Girls use sex to get love. I mean, the guy's like, "If you love me, you'll do it," and the girl's like, "Thing's will change if I put out, right?" I mean, as if . . .' she leaned back in her chair. Dopey ditched a paper ball at her, which Miss Jaffa totally pretended not to see. Brandi glared at him, and then at ME, as if, "he's your step-brother."  
  
Oh, great. Loving the responsibility here.  
  
I was surprised when CeeCee raised her hand. So was Adam.  
  
'Yeah?' Miss Jaffa regarded her coldly. It was widely known that she was racist, as well as a lot of other discriminating things. Like I said, only the jocks liked her.  
  
CeeCee shrugged. 'Love is THE most overrated thing in the universe. Most people hate it a lot, most people like it, but people have extreme feelings for it. It ALWAYS occurs in movie as a stupid subplot. 97% of the songs are about love. It's really annoying. I doubt one person in this room has ever felt genuine love yet.'  
  
I sniffed indignantly.  
  
Miss Jaffa turned a steely eye to me. 'It seems that Suze disagrees. Care to enlighten us, Suze?'  
  
I went red. All the jocks chorused a big "Oooh!" I rolled my eyes at them.  
  
Love? What did I think about love? Hmm . . .  
  
'Love,' I said simply, 'Is different for everyone who feels it. It can't really be defined for everyone, because it always changes. But for me . . . it's when two people find each other. They feel a devotion so powerful that it feels like it can conquer everything . . . Nothing will ever destroy it. No evil can bring these two people apart, once bound so strongly by this passion. It hurts, and it makes you feel like the luckiest person on earth,' I said, my eyes glazed over. I was talking about Jesse . . . Oh my God, I really did love him . . . 'You haven't felt love until you have really met the person that you want to spend the rest of you life with. It's . . . magic,' I ended, sighing. I snapped out of my trance-like state, and saw that everyone was staring at me, not moving a muscle. CeeCee's mouth was open. I knew what everybody was probably thinking. "She's that deep?"  
  
'Whoa, intense, dude,' Scott jeered, and threw a paper ball at me, but I caught it and threw it right back.  
  
'Suze! Stop it!' Miss Jaffa snapped. Scott laughed mockingly.  
  
'Ha, ha . . . this is what you get, Simon. Armani is expensive.'  
  
'I'll give you something,' I growled . . .  
  
'Suze,' Miss Jaffa warned, sitting back on the desk and clasped her hands together. 'Moving on,' she said, conveniently ignoring the nerds that still had their hands waving feebly in the air. 'Okay, what about lust, people. What about that?'  
  
'Something which makes you attracted to some chick which usually leads to mad wild sex!' cheered Dopey.  
  
'The urge to screw someone!' Scott contributed in a roar. Only he didn't say "screw."  
  
'All right!' the jocks high fived him in turn messily. Everyone looked over at them with annoyance. Miss Jaffa just smiled that smile she smiles. I hate it . . . it makes my skin crawl.  
  
'Lust is just a self-indulgent sexual desire, and it's stupid,' CeeCee declared.  
  
Miss Jaffa nodded. She wanted something more raunchier than CeeCee's fact file, obviously. She looked back over to the boys for help, flicking her sleek blonde hair off her face purposely, and tilting her head in what she must have thought looked sexy. I thought she looked like a hooker, but it worked. All her targets smirked and nudged each other. I could have chucked up, I swear to God . . .  
  
I coughed out loud, and put my hand up. Miss Jaffa again turned to me. 'My, aren't we lucky. Suze is gracing us with more definitions. Two in one hour, is that a Guinness?'  
  
The jocks sniggered. It wasn't funny, but they are always there for their Miss Jaffa.  
  
'Lust,' I said with dignity, 'is the deadliest of the seven deadly sins. That's all it is. A sin.' Unfortunately, after saying that, I couldn't just stop. It just came flooding out. 'It's evil, and it's always confused for love, and it can drive people to killing the ones they THINK they love, and – and it can make someone believe they are in love in return! It's horrible, and it is destructive. Lust sucks. Paul –'  
  
Well, that made me stop.  
  
'Oh, that's the guy that beat –' Kelly started, but CeeCee had loyalty enough to kick her in the shins. Kelly didn't appreciate this, though, if they way she chucked this big spaz about bruising easily and how obvious it would be on CeeCee's white skin if she thumped her one, was any indication at all.  
  
Love, lust . . . One a gift, the other a curse . . . a sin.  
  
Paul was a sin.  
  
~*~  
  
By the end of school, I was SO stressed it wasn't funny. I'd asked around about this "Red" guy. I was surprised how quickly I'd found out who he was. Red Beaumont. Some big-time real estate agent or something. Joy, I was going to have a BALL working on this case . . .  
  
CeeCee and Adam were still mad at me for being such a head case. I saw them at lunch, talking quietly to each other. I knew they were talking about me. They kept shooting me looks from across the courtyard. I was sitting on my own then. It didn't make me feel that flash. And then Scott Turner came up and started verbally abusing me, saying how I was so paying for his dry- cleaning bill for that Armani jacket I apparently. I told him to go do something involving a homosexual and a sheep, making his friends woot. I swear, he looked like he wanted to hit me. Let him try . . . give me a reason to kick his butt, and I would have . . .  
  
I flopped onto my bed as I got home, breathing really hard. I pressed my hands against my face, trying to get rid of the killer headache I had. Nothing compared to the ones I got after I shifted or whatever, but still pretty severe. Why did my life suck? Stalker-psycho ghost haunting my dreams, boyfriend in Spain, best friends hating me, yodeling ghost paying me nightly visits? That's just the beginning . . . I won't even begin to describe my mealtime nausea, watching my stepbrothers EAT.  
  
Ew . . .  
  
I jumped up, and put on my gloves, and then started beating the shit out of my boxing bag. God, it helped relieve the stress a bit. I moved around it in rhythmic movements, punching it skillfully. I really was getting good, you know. My strength had increased dramatically since Paul had left.  
  
Screw him . . .  
  
I began thinking more profoundly about that whole Love/Lust discussion we had at school today. It really opened my eyes, believe it or not. I'm serious. Never had I thought about it in that way. So, ha, maybe this thing I was feeling that caused me to dream about Paul like that was only lust? But . . . ew! Sexual desire?! WRONG. I mean, Paul is hot. We, unfortunately, cannot deny that. And God knows no woman is complete until they have seen him in leather, but Paul was wrong in every way.  
  
* Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .*  
  
And don't I know it . . . I sighed and thought about everything else, lying there comfortably on my bed. You know, the "Red lady" thing. I should really call the number that CeeCee gave me. But I SO did not feel like moving. I sighed, and thought about Tara. Would she come back as a ghost? She'd probably come to me if she did. But a lot of people make the mistake in thinking that everyone comes back as one. That's SO not true, thank God, or I would have no hope at a social life. Only the people who left messy stuff behind come back to haunt me and nag me until I've whipped out my Mediating spray-and-wipe and I've cleaned up the mess. Joy . . . Again, I sighed. I felt so relaxed. I didn't want to move a muscle . . .  
  
'Suze! Phone!' Andy bellowed up the stairs.  
  
MY GOD! WHAT DID I HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME PEACE AROUND HERE, GOD DAMMIT?!?!  
  
'All right!' I snapped down at him. I looked around furtively, and making sure no one was watching, I did four ace back flips down the stairs and landed perfectly on my feet. I kissed my hand, and waved it to an invisible audience. 'And gold goes to . . . oh my, little old me!'  
  
Ha, I've still got it, eh? Yeah, whatever. God, I suck. If this was CeeCee ringing for me to get my head out of my butt, I would seriously do my nut. Everything was driving me CRAZY! If I didn't escape this insanity, I didn't know what would become of me . . . I grabbed the cordless and flopped onto one of the couches in the lounge where no one was, funnily enough. No X-Box obsessed Dopey or nothing, and not even a Doc testing which was harder, gravel or sand.  
  
'Hello?' I said cautiously into the phone.  
  
'. . . Querida.'  
  
One word. One single word that seemed to make everything so much better . . .  
  
That soft, sexy Spanish lilted voice purred through the receiver, embracing me and making everything in my life seem to insignificant. It was only then that I realized how much I missed Jesse . . . I melted on the couch.  
  
'Oh, Jesse,' I gushed, 'I've missed you so much!'  
  
I heard his sexy little chuckle. 'But it's only been a day, Susannah.'  
  
I frowned. 'Anyone would miss you,' I replied with a grin. He sniggered in this totally cute, breathy way that sounded so sexy on the phone. Why does he have to be so sexy? It's not fair!  
  
My heart was soaring. My Jesse had finally called me up! Well, only after a day, but still.  
  
'I wasn't sure if you were still alive,' I snapped playfully. 'Could have died in a plane crash, you know. It happens. Or Madrid could have been bombed,' I added.  
  
He "hmm"ed me. 'Yeah, I know about that,' he said seriously.  
  
It was great. We talked for ages about everything and anything. I told him all about the Red lady, and Tara's mysterious death and everything. He listened patiently, and commented in all the right places. OH so cute. I grinned secretly.  
  
'Susannah, there IS something that you should know,' Jesse said, with a somewhat hesitant pause,  
  
My heart skipped a beat. Why did that sound weird?  
  
'Go on?' I said. Great, he's probably going to tell me that the souvenir "España!" T-shirt he bought me only came in XXXXL or something. Oh well, I could deal, right? RIGHT?!  
  
'Susannah,' he said. Why did he call me that still? I was just getting into the whole "querida" deal. I pouted but he couldn't see me, so I stopped due to the futility of it, and it hurt my lips and forehead a bit too. 'There . . . well,' I heard him swallow a little. Whoa. XXXXL wasn't THAT bad. Was it . . . something else?  
  
'Susannah,' he repeated, sounding a bit braver.  
  
'Yes, Jesse?'  
  
'I've . . . I've met someone here.'  
  
The words took about thirty seconds to register. I kind of didn't hear what he was saying while I was still trying to make sense of them. Jesse. Had. Met. Someone. Who the HELL was someone?  
  
WAIT!  
  
Oh my God!  
  
Jesse had met someone! ANOTHER someone! To replace me!  
  
The realization bit me like a hammer head shark. I felt myself being ripped apart. I kind of squeaked into the phone. Jesse! Jesse was dumping me! He hated me! He didn't love me! Oh my God, how could this happen?!  
  
'Susannah? SUSANNAH!' he cried through the receiver. I realized that I had dropped it on the floor. I would have been embarrassed, but I was too wounded.  
  
'Jesse,' I said breathlessly, trying to sound calm, 'So, you've met someone?'  
  
He sounded relieved. RELIEVED. 'Yes. She is a mediator. She is very Spanish, and knows only little English. She is sixteen, like yourself. Coincidence.'  
  
Off with the old, on with the new! Oh my God, I had been played like a harpsichord! I kind of gasped again, trying to choke down a sob. Jesse was dumping me!  
  
'So . . . you're with her now?' I asked.  
  
'Yes, she's right here,' he said with amusement, sounding more and more relieved by the second. I sat rigid on the couch. I couldn't move. Every muscle was as tense and hard as diamonds. And those diamonds cut.  
  
'She understands nothing about mediating,' he went on, 'So she has asked if I give her a little extra, well, tutoring.  
  
TUTORING!  
  
THIS IS BAAAAAAAAAD!!  
  
'Jesse,' I gasped. I couldn't help it this time, it slipped out. He sounded shocked by it.  
  
'Susannah –'  
  
'No, don't Susannah me,' I snarled into the phone. Kelly was SO right. I had been so stupid! How could I have thought that Jesse would be happy with ME? My God, was I blind. I SUCKED. Of course he'd want some Spanish booty. I wasn't enough to satisfy a hot, sexy, smart guy like him. I was nothing compared to him . . . I wasn't rich, I wasn't all that pretty, I had nothing special about me – save being a Shifter – and I had no sense of humour. What could he have possibly seen in me? Why had I not seen this before? Oh, it was hurting now. I could feel my heart splintering. It ached like nothing else.  
  
'Susannah! Please, let me tell you about her . . . '  
  
'No, I think I'll be right,' I sniffed, trying not to bawl into the phone. 'On second thought, no. Just tell me her name, Jesse. Then just shut up.'  
  
'But Susannah –'  
  
'WHAT'S HER NAME, GOD DAMMIT?'  
  
Jesse was silent on the other end of the line. I could just hear him breathing. Why did he sound so shocked? Did he expect me to give him a "Well Done" balloon on string when he told me? Hell NO. My voice was wobbling dangerously. I was almost beside myself.  
  
'Her name,' he breathed, 'Is Querida Andres . . . '  
  
QUERIDA! That little . . . ugh!  
  
No WONDER he had been calling me Susannah! Oh my God. That hurt more than anything did.  
  
I hung up, and then slung the phone across the room, and burst into tears.  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
Guys, DON'T jump to conclusions. Don't you think that Suze overreacted just a *little*? Stop flaming me already, jeez! Just wait and see what happens . . .  
  
I want you to review!!! Please do, and re-read author's note at the top if you haven't already. Important! I need you help, guys! Then I'll get the next chapter up quicker, and the new story that the author's note is in reference to!  
  
Love ya!  
  
MystAngel. 


	6. Buffy Stuff

A/N: Hey, with the new chick being named that? Well, I saw it on a "Spanish names" site, and I just couldn't resist. Thus, Querida Andres was born. I hope it'll grow on you. I was a bit freaked by amy88 . . . Sorry you didn't like the chapter so much . . .  
  
I had a REALLY bad day, and reading some of the reviews didn't even help. Sorry if you didn't like what was written, but, (to quote Carolyn984, "It's not always rainbows and butterflies." Hehehe. But that is so true. You expected smooth sailing? Not always. And we all know that Suze can be a bit of a hot head when she is hurt and angry.  
  
But yeah, don't jump to conclusions. People like Corcra have the right idea. They know how my mind works . . .  
  
I promise, amy88, I'm not a bum, really! Sorry if you didn't like the chapter. But for everyone, I really need those plot ideas for the next fanfic, so PLEASE help. I mean, everyone's saying that they have none. If it was just a couple of people not giving anything, that would be okay, but I think only about two people have said anything helpful. I'm in a really depressed mood, so brighten me up maybe? Okay . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
I just sat there, staring at nothing. Everything was kind of blurry. Or was it just because my eyes were so wet? Ugh, I HATE crying. It's the worst thing ever, when your eyes go all blood-shot and your throat chokes up and you make this horrible blubbering sounds and your eyes LEAK. And how you can never stop . . .  
  
I snuffled my nose and blew it on some tissues. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to. Jesse . . . he was leaving me? Just like, "Oh, I've met fancy Spanish Querida Andres who can't talk English and is my new butt- monkey."  
  
NICE, Jesse. Real nice!  
  
Again, I hiccuped loudly, trying not to burst into tears again. But they came. It just ached so much. Just today, I'd been saying how much I loved him to a whole classroom of people, describing what it felt like to feel such a powerful emotion. But heaven forbid something should go right for me, it was all a lie. Jesse had been a lie. You know, it would have been worse if he had have just been a psychotic murderer like I had thought he was when I first met him. But no, he had to be HOT and SWEET and totally CUTE and all WELL MANNERED. Where the hell did that go? Traits like that don't just evaporate! Had it ALL been an act? And why? Why bother to go to such extent? It was only me. I mean, yeah, I have got the occasional wolf- whistle, but I'm no Miss Jaffa. I'm no Kelly Prescott. No Beyonce. I'm just Suze Simon, who happens to . . . oh, isn't that cute, talk to a couple of carcasses? Yeah . . . duh, Suze. It was all just a game.  
  
Love is all a game, right?  
  
Game over.  
  
I totally went limp in the seat, just breathing. I just concentrated on remembering to inhale deeply, the thick, corrupted oxygen around me, and let it all out as deadly fumes of carbon dioxide. Again, the phone rang. I picked it up angrily, listening expectantly.  
  
'Susannah? Is that you? You must hear me out –'  
  
I hung up again. I didn't have to do anything. Nothing. I owed him nothing. I gave him my heart, and he tore my still-beating, bloody, dripping heart from my chest cavity, threw it to the ground with all of his might, and then stomped it into a fine paste. Now I am worse off than before.  
  
Not dramatic at ALL.  
  
And I didn't even get my fine paste back! It kind of decomposed on the concrete I think . . .  
  
I dragged a weary, poison-oaky hand through my hair. My God, this day sucked. Do you really hate me that much? I mean, you plague me with ghosts, and you expect me to just take this shit that you fling at me? God, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!  
  
By then I was on my feet. I had to do something constructive. I ran upstairs and spent fifteen intense minutes on the boxing bag, and then ran back downstairs to the phone with a little slip of paper in my hand.  
  
I dialed it, and waited with bated breath for "Mr Beaumont" to answer. Yeah, that's right, I was going to get this bloody "Red" lady off my back. I still didn't get it. CeeCee had told me that this guy didn't even have red hair or anything, and his real name was like, Thaddeus or something. So what was the deal with Red? I mean, spasticated or what? I totally didn't get –  
  
'Hello?'  
  
A voice of the softest variety greeted me in a silky, sexy breath. I was totally shocked. Because, unfortunately, it was a voice I recognized, and currently didn't really want to be having a conversation with.  
  
It was Tad, from Kelly's pool party.  
  
'H – hello?' he repeated, a little louder this time.  
  
I did what any girl would do in that situation.  
  
I hung up.  
  
Whoa I'm having a field day with this hanging up thing, aren't I?  
  
But unfortunately, New Jersey dude had caller ID. So when the phone rang again, I just assumed it was Jesse.  
  
'I have nothing to say to you, you bastard! Go and screw her then, see if I care –'  
  
'Hello?'  
  
I stopped dead. Oh my . . . HOLY CRAP!  
  
I didn't utter a word. I was about to hang up when his voice stopped me. 'Wait! Don't I know you?'  
  
I froze. Oh God . . .why me, WHY?!?!  
  
'Hey, Tad,' I said, so embarrassed I could literally feel myself liquefying into some gooey substance that would be found under toilet seat after ten years. My face burnt hotter than fire. I just sat there, totally awed that one could be so stupid, one being . . . who?  
  
Oh yeah, me.  
  
'Sorry, wrong number,' I gushed.  
  
'Uh, I called you.'  
  
'Oh . . . that's right –'  
  
'Susie? Is that you?' Tad asked.  
  
Now my face burnt in a different way.  
  
'Don't call me or I'll take away your reason for wearing jocks,' I snapped, so fast that he (happily) didn't quite catch.  
  
I heard him laugh. It was quite a horrible one at that. Well, okay, NOT horrible, but foreboding, you know? I shivered. 'Well, I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon.'  
  
'You're not seeing me,' I said.  
  
'Well, I think you know what I mean,' he chuckled. Was it me, or was he . . . weird?  
  
'Uh, yeah, whatever,' I said. 'Um, I think I have to –'  
  
'Who were you talking about?' he asked curiously. I was still FREAKED.  
  
TAD was RED BEAUMONT'S bloody SON! Could this suck even more?  
  
'Uh, no one. None of your –'  
  
'You can tell me . . . ' His voice was so soft. Like a cool, gentle breeze in my ear.  
  
I sighed. What the hell? At least offer some explanation, right? I freaked the poor boy out. 'My, er, boyfriend is in Spain. And he, well, two-timed me.'  
  
I heard him click his tongue sympathetically. 'Damn. That's rough. What a bastard.'  
  
'In a big way,' I grumbled. 'He tried to call back before and so I hung up on him, and I thought that you were him and when you weren't I was really embarrassed so I'm sorry is it got weird it was just –'  
  
'Sorry, could you slow down? I kind of only caught the first bit.'  
  
I groaned to myself. I ALWAYS talk fast when I'm nervous. But why AM I nervous?  
  
I repeated myself, although not quite losing my head this time and prattling on about crap. I heard him chuckle. 'It was weird,' he admitted in that soft, sleek voice that coiled around me like a sheet of cool silk. 'But it's okay.'  
  
I smiled, and sighed. 'But yeah, I was . . .' Oh God, I couldn't ask to come over and talk to his dad after all of that. That would be TOO embarrassing. No . . .  
  
'You were what?'  
  
'Nothing.'  
  
He thought for a second, before saying, 'Do you . . . wanna hang out?'  
  
I blinked. Huh? He wasn't actually supposed to invite me over. That was like, asking me over to SPEND TIME with him. What? But I was with J –  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
Suddenly, I felt really, REALLY pissed off. Rebellious. Like I had to do something outrageous just to prove a point.  
  
'I'd love to,' I said with maybe a little too much spite. I mean, Jesse couldn't even hear me, right? No . . . But screw him. He's out of this, the oily jackass . . . Yeah, take that, *Rico Suave.  
  
(A/NL I just looked *him up on Google, he's nothing special, guys. Jesse's SO much hotter . . . *gargles*)  
  
Ha . . . Querida Andres . . . How DARE he?! With that name? That was bloody adding insult to injury!  
  
'Wanna meet at the Coffee Clutch or something in ten?' he asked.  
  
What? I stuttered something incoherent into the receiver, completely shocked. What was he on about? Hell, what was he ON? I'm Suze Simon, the ex- girlfriend of J.D.S. Like anyone would want to spend time with me, if someone as hot and perfect as Jesse didn't want me. But . . . too stunned to decline, I muttered, 'Sure . . . '  
  
God, what's going ON?  
  
I hung up, a little weirded out. Jeez, something was screwed up. I didn't want to be going on a bloody date with Tad. I needed to see his dad. But . . . then maybe later I could get to Mr Beaumont if I pretended to date Tad.  
  
No, REALLY dated Tad. I was dumped. Single. Get used to it, Suze. I was a reject.  
  
Sighing deeply, I dragged myself up the stairs, feeling emotionally drained. Oh, what I'd give to have someone to hold me . . . I wiped my hands down my face, blowing a raspberry to no one in particular. Well, a mental picture of Jesse, but yeah.  
  
Damn him . . . cheating on me, the filthy great –  
  
'Suze, are you going out?' Andy called up the stairs.  
  
'Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry,' I yelled back. 'I don't think I can really stay for dinner.'  
  
'That's fine,' he said, sounding a little disgruntled. 'Better I know now than when your plate has a bowl of steaming hot pumpkin soup that would eventually get a skin on it and go cold, and could have so easily been food for people in third world countries –'  
  
'Yep, cool,' I butted in. That would have gone on forever.  
  
*Forever . . . *  
  
In my room, I slipped into something more cute – a little over-done, it has to be admitted – and left the house.  
  
Suze Simon has left the building.  
  
Remaining people in the building are now free to celebrate.  
  
I pulled my leather jacket closer onto me. I mean, it was COLD. I was so walking there. Cheap guy . . . didn't even offer to come and pick me up. Must have had a ping pong ball for a brain . . .  
  
In a red and black plaid mini, a little red cowl-neck tank top and of course, the leather jacket the reached half-way down my thighs, I marched for twenty minutes to the Coffee Clutch. Okay, not "marched" because that would have just been weird. Yeah. I was ten minutes late, but hey, I actually WALKED?  
  
There, I saw Tad in – unfortunately – much the same clothes as the other night at the Kelly's "pool" party. Funny, only Scottie got to use the pool. I chuckled at that thought.  
  
I so had the urge to comment on his terrible clothes – Tad's I mean, not Scott's – but I held my tongue. I wanted to make a lasting impression, so he'd take me to meet his dad and then I'd give the message from beyond the grave and stuff.  
  
'Hey,' I smiled at him as I slid into a seat in one of the fresh looking cubicles. Tad nodded coolly. Ah, he had that silence about him that made him a little appealing even. It was a cute gimmick, it was, but . . . I just didn't have my heart in it.  
  
'So, how are you?' he asked, as a waitress walked up to our table.  
  
'Same as I was before?' I kind of hinted.  
  
'Oh yeah . . . '  
  
We ordered - him a coffee and me a hot chocolate – and just garbled about crap, you know? All I found out about him was that he was apparently star basketball player for RLS, and liked jet skiing a lot. Or something like that. After he was through describing all of the positions of a basket ball team, I think I kind of became fixated with the salt and pepper on the table top, occasionally going "uh huh" him whenever he paused for my approval. It was pretty boring, unfortunately. So I concentrated on other things. Like, oh, I dunno . . .  
  
How gay my life was?  
  
Maybe that.  
  
'Hey,' I said suddenly, noticing something. 'What's that on your neck?'  
  
'Nothing,' he muttered, hiking up his shoulders instantly, frowning heavily.  
  
'That's not nothing,' I shot back. 'It's . . . '  
  
'It's poison oak, okay?' he snapped. 'I don't know how the hell it got there, but –'  
  
I started laughing.  
  
He gave me a weird look.  
  
'I do,' I smiled, and sheepishly held up my scaly hands. A look of comprehension dawned on him, but then he frowned again. Like he'd got as far in his thoughts as about . . . two centimeters?  
  
'I fell into some poison oak at Kelly's party,' I said. 'Then I slow-danced with you. Thus, you're a bumpy, peeling freak as am I. Joy, huh?'  
  
He nodded slowly. 'But hey . . . who's Kelly?'  
  
Ouch . . .  
  
~*~  
  
It was six-thirty. The sun had set, and it was really getting chilly. I mean, colder than it had been when I had walked over. I still couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of picking me up, the knucklehead . . .  
  
'Okay,' he grinned as he drained the last of his coffee, 'What do ya wanna do now?'  
  
I twirled my hair around my finger thoughtfully. 'I dunno,' I said. How about meet your dad so I can get this stupid hippie ghoul off my stupid back and get on with my stupid life?  
  
'Uh, wanna come to my place and hang there?' he asked.  
  
Okay, for anyone that would have sounded like he was trying to hit on me, or get me to go to bed with him or something crap like that. But I SO wasn't in the mood to even pretend to be flattered, or contemplate whether he was being serious or not. I had a job to do. This was exactly what I wanted to do. Get to his stupid dad.  
  
'Whatever,' I said, and slurped the dregs of my hot chocolate slowly. I flicked my hair out of my eyes and followed him out to his car. He really was pretty tall. Okay, well, duh, that's usually why people get on BASKETBALL teams, but he still wasn't as tall as Jesse.  
  
Not even Paul.  
  
Blue eyes . . .  
  
My fingers ran subconsciously over the slightly raised scars on my wrists again. Memories . . . ropes, shouting, choking, lust.  
  
Lust, not love.  
  
'Suze? Where are you going?'  
  
I stopped. Oops, I'd continued to walk when Tad stopped at his c – aaah . . .  
  
Oh my . . .  
  
My eyebrows went SKY HIGH.  
  
A Porsche?  
  
The dude drove a PORSCHE? He wore silk tees? Back in New York, if he pulled stunts like that, there would have been a lot of assumptions that he batted for the other side, you know? As in, the fancy-walking, slurred talking kind?  
  
Oh, all right. They would have thought he was GAY, okay? I know when I don't make sense. In fact, I was kind of wondering . . . you know?  
  
'Ah, you want to get in, Susie?' he asked very softly.  
  
My eyebrows dived down. 'Don't call me that,' I hissed at him. Why did he keep calling me that? Jeez, was it so hard? He looked kind of shocked. 'Okay, sorry,' he said with a gentle chuckle. I wasn't feeling to jolly by then. I dunno why . . .  
  
It was a while driving. I mean, quite a while. Like, twenty minutes. As far as I could tell, he lived as far away as Jesse did, but in just about the opposite direction.  
  
~*~  
  
'So, you wanted to have a private word with me, alone?'  
  
Mr Beaumont sounded terribly confused. He was quite a big man, I mean, like, stocky. Not tiny, believe me. He still had most of his hair on his head, and was very professional looking. His hands were very large and hairy, but at least he had the decency to shave. We were in his office.  
  
Which was in a house as big as a NY hotel.  
  
I am SO serious. When Tad drove in his driveway, I had the weirdest expression on my face. It kind of wouldn't go away for about a minute. Well, a little more than a minute. Okay, a lot more. Tad kept on looking at me funny. Like, really funny. Fair enough, I guess I looked kind of constipated. Well, REALLY constipated. What? I had never seen a house like that in the flesh. Oh, all right the BRICK. It was TWICE as big as Jesse's! I just sat there staring, my mouth opened at this weird, horrified, alarmed kind of angle.  
  
What the HELL was I messing with? You don't go telling rich old men that they killed someone but it wasn't their fault! I was so SCREWED!  
  
I just kept staring, until I realized that he'd hopped out and had opened the door on my side.  
  
'You rich or something?' I asked. That, I realized, was bloody obvious.  
  
'Or something,' he grinned. Obviously, he liked this money he had. He liked it a lot. After an eternity of mortification, I tore my goggled eyes away from the light brick walls with the high gates and the fountains and the big grass areas. And that was only from about fifty meters away. We weren't even on the property yet. Tad waved coolly to the guard at the gate, who opened it cheerily. Well, not cheerily, but he looked a bit more perky than Tad. I still kind of had fist-in-mouth disease – meaning I could fit my fist in my mouth, it was open so wide.  
  
And when he lead me inside, whoa . . . you've never seen anything like it. It was all so, well, posh. I mean, pompous posh. Like, "I'm so much better than you." But I didn't mind. I was THERE, right? So ha to everyone else. I was THERE. You weren't.  
  
Feugh . . . I think it was giving off the pompous vibe big time . . . Sorry.  
  
This Japanese dude called Yoshi tried to take my leather jacket off me, but I kind of grabbed his collar and shoved him back. Highly alarmed, he ran out of the room. I turned to Tad to see he was laughing his head off.  
  
'What?' I demanded, 'he tried to steal my jacket! Do you know how much this costs? I mean, you probably have multiple leather jackets, well, they might be silk, but I cant afford more than –'  
  
But he was still laughing.  
  
~*~  
  
Back to the present. Mr Beaumont was staring at me, looking quite astonished. God, the guy could have gone out in the sun a bit. He was like, WAY pale. I shuddered internally. Funny, he didn't look like a murderer. He sat behind his desk, and I sat in front of it gingerly. The door, which lead the elevator, was firmly closed. I looked at it nervously. I wasn't too zazzed about being in a room with a murderer, but hey, it's happened before, and nothing went too wrong. (Cough, "Jesse!" Cough) Well, striking certain recent things from the record . . .  
  
And the windows? They were shut to. I mean, fair enough, it was night. But these things, they were NAILED shut. Like, no light, no air, EVER. I stared at them, and then at Tad's dad cynically, before remembering I had a job. So the guy was a little weird, as well as a psycho. Weren't we all? Well, not the psycho bit, but . . . oh, you know what I'm on about . . . the weird bit. We're all weird! Ugh, why do I bother justifying myself. I don't make sense any more anyway.  
  
'Look, Mr Beaumont,' I said, 'I'm sorry to break this to you, but . . . I'm not here for your son. I needed to see you. Desperately. See, I had this . . . uh, dream. This lady came and said that you didn't kill her. That it wasn't your fault,' I blurted out, not staring at him, but at the huge tropical aquarium that concealed half of the wall. So many fish, swimming in an endless prison . . . I hate fish. They are so depressing. I mean, who wants to eat flakes all their life? Jeez . . . doesn't, like, animal rights do something about it? It sucks. Stupid fish . . . might as well be on people's plates if they're going to be swimming around just looking all flashy only to be found floating on their side after a week. Sorry . . . blame that little speech on Bubbles. YES, I had a goldfish, okay? So? I was SEVEN. And it DIED. No ghost of Bubbles to mediate, oh noooo. It was very emotional.  
  
After a silence that I seemed to find quite odd, I looked back at Mr Beaumont, to find that he was . . .  
  
Not shaking in paranoia.  
  
Not crying like I'd just told him something like changing.  
  
Not even looking freaked out, or angry.  
  
Oh, none of the above. Our Mr Thaddeus Beaumont was grinning. And not in a "you're not serious, you're a crazy person" way. Grinning in a "I was hoping you would say that" way. Which was totally wrong. He wasn't supposed to be grinning. Only Adam was allowed to look that insane when he grinned. Not high class, professional, multi-million dollar earning business men like him.  
  
I was getting freaked by now.  
  
'Oh, Miss Simon,' he bared his unusually pointy teeth into a grin. Uh . . . they weren't just pointy. They were LONG. As in . . . REAL long. Oooh, not good . . .  
  
A highly Transylvanian thought flashed through my head. Oh, Suze, God, don't be an idiot. Vampires aren't real. They're stuff out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Don't kid yourself. You just deal with the boring old ghosties.  
  
I blinked. Hey, I was in shock. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to have an emotional minute, and then the "Red" lady would appear, crying, thanking me, and would move on, and then the rich guy would send me flowers every day because he was so happy. Mr Beaumont was NOT supposed to be grinning. That wasn't in the bloody script!  
  
'Uh, dude, I don't think you understood what I said,' I muttered uncertainly, standing up. But he stood up with me. Whoa, he was tall. Like his son. I backed away a little, and – yes, I'm ashamed to admit – I gulped.  
  
'I know exactly what you mean,' he smiled slyly, coming out from behind his desk slowly. 'This person who contacted you, this woman, she said I . . . I didn't kill her? It wasn't my fault?' He was still grinning. I felt myself starting to freak. I was trapped in a room with a madman. The dad of a guy I was apparently "dating," but a MADMAN ALL THE SAME.  
  
'Yeah, she said that,' I stumbled on my words, holding my hands out behind me so I wouldn't fall. I kept moving back, but hey, the office wasn't that big, you know.  
  
'That's rather strange. See, it's quite untrue,' he considered, frowning slightly. 'It indeed was my fault. And she's not the only one that this horrible thing has happened to, unfortunately. Oh, there have been many . . . '  
  
Oh no you don't . . . Oh, no. NO! NOT FAIR!  
  
'You speak to the dead then, do you Miss Simon?' he asked articulately. He was so bloody pale! And he kind of kept staring at my neck. I didn't have a necklace on, so I don't know why. I mean, usually wearing a necklace attracts some admiring attention, but no neck wear here. So what was the DEAL?  
  
'Mr Beaumont,' I spluttered, 'I really think I should be getting back to Tad –'  
  
I made a dash for the door, but it wouldn't open. A effervesce of panic rose from my stomach, and sped up my world triple time. Shit! He was going to kill me! Ah, NOT good! I desperately hammered on the elevator door, but no go. There was no button from the inside to call the elevator up. It must have only worked for the outside. How the hell was Mr Beaumont supposed to get out? Why the HELL was I caring about him?  
  
Oh, because now I had to get out? Oh yeah, that's bloody IT!  
  
'Please, can you open the door?' I said quickly, 'I need to go, uh, to the toilet. Desperate, man. I'm on fluid tablets, you see –'  
  
Okay, EW.  
  
He was two meters away, and he looked highly amused. 'But you can see the dead in your dreams. You can't get into contact with more of these people? How I do wish I could ask them what they felt when I . . . well, did away with them. It would be so good to hear how they describe the pain,' he said, and placed a large, strong hand on my shoulder.  
  
This guy's sick. He's real sick, I realized. Oh God . . . RICH PEOPLE THESE DAYS!  
  
'Mr Beaumont!' I yelped, and jerked away from him. 'It probably wasn't real. Jeez! Can you please open the door? I really, REALLY need to go pee –'  
  
But he didn't. Rich people just don't have any consideration for peoples' possible bladder problems, god dammit! He totally grabbed my shoulders again, yes, PLURAL, and held me very close to his face in a total non- romantic way.  
  
Okay, I was now officially scared. What the HELL WAS GOING ON?!  
  
'If you refuse to co-operate, of course,' he leered at my neck, 'I could just . . . yes . . . '  
  
He lowered his head oh so slowly to my neck, and I felt two very sharp knife-like objects puncture the flesh of my neck, and I felt myself being drained of my life, of my blood . . . Sucking, stealing . . . drinking . . .  
  
My mouth opened in horror, and my eyes went wide, so wide . . . Pulsing blood was being taken from me. My life. What made me alive . . .  
  
'Vampire,' I breathed . . .  
  
My vision collapsed entirely.  
  
A dead, severe ache engulfed my body.  
  
I . . . was . . . I was . . . I was NOT BUFFY!!! WHAT THE HELL WAS . . .  
  
Oooh, woozy.  
  
I couldn't move any more.  
  
This was it . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
The change. You weren't expecting that, right? Oooh, psycho freaky Red Beaumont . . . Is this the end for Suze?! Stay tuned!  
  
RE-RE-NOTE: Remember, ideas for that fanfiction! I'm on my KNEES, people. I'm getting really pooped out here. No one's really giving me anything. They just say that "I'll think of something." I don't know what you want though! Please, respond to my desperate cry for help? 


	7. Desire

Hello again.  
  
JDepp: Never have I seen the word "MORE" written so many times. 2100 times! You have a lot of spare time, or you are pretty handy with the whole Copy/Paste deal, huh? One would have got the message across. Cool all the same, hehehe. But, for the sake of my sanity, no more "more"? Lol.  
  
Okay, o with the chapter.  
  
**************************************************************************** **************  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
I was ready to give up. I really was. All I could think of, "Jesse cheated on me. Damn, I'll never get my revenge." Ha, I'm just SO deep. But really, death didn't seem that bad. Because, physically I was dying. My life was slipping away. I was ready to die. See the light. Kick the bucket. Meet my maker.  
  
So that's when I was kind of shocked when I felt Mr Beaumont's teeth being withdrawn from my skin. There was no longer a hot, toxic breath on my neck, no longer did I feel so numb that all aspects of my life seemed so, so long ago. No, I was back in the real world, and I was pissed.  
  
Blinking groggily, I glared at the fuzzy physiques before my eyes. There . . . were two people? I was against a wall. Having no strength, I slid down heavily, still trying to see properly. Blackness still haunted my sight.  
  
Two figures collided hazily, and I kept hearing breaks of yelling, but no words. I was still trying to return to the world. To life. I wasn't sure if I'd reached there yet. Was . . . was I already dead?  
  
Again, the figures collided until one was pushed away, where he disappeared. All was still fuzzy. I still couldn't feel anything, no pain or sense. Then, one of the figures came very close to me, and I dimly held pressure on both of my shoulders. A deep voice resonated in my ears, but it was so far away. I tried to breathe, but the air was choked up in my throat.  
  
'Are you all right?'  
  
My vision and hearing had sharpened. I blinked again, and saw a man crouching right before my face, checking my eyes.  
  
I wrenched my tongue from the roof of my deadly dry mouth, and swallowed. I felt a huge, painful lump in there.  
  
'Fine,' I tried to say, but the word didn't really come out with any voice to it. More like a choked rasp, barely a vowel sound.  
  
The man shook me by the shoulders again. 'Are you all right?'  
  
'I'm fine, god dammit,' I snapped, managing to form words that were almost lucid. Sensation returned to my arms, and I pushed his hands off of me. Then, I looked at his eyes again. They were cold and unkind, and grey. His irises, they didn't look cloudy or smoky. They were like jagged grey rocks. Hard.  
  
Yet he was helping me.  
  
I think.  
  
'What . . . 'I ran my tongue over my lips slowly. They were dry and cracked. Drained of moisture. I tried again. 'What happened?'  
  
He swallowed, and a three lines appeared across his forehead as he frowned. His eyes twitched a little, and looked to the right briefly. 'You collapsed. Would you like to speak to Tad? Maybe he can –'  
  
'You're lying,' I whispered.  
  
His frown deepened. 'I can assure you –'  
  
I brusquely felt my throat. Ah, bingo.  
  
'Explain that,' I challenged, presenting the two wet lumps that I felt. I removed my hand and looked at my fingers. They were stained. Dark, and red.  
  
Again, the man swallowed. 'That, ah, that was a pen that you fell onto –'  
  
'Twice?' I said skeptically. I stared at my fingers again, my lip quivering. What was going on? My fingers, against the . . . the blood. They were so pale. So white . . .  
  
He shifted uncomfortably. 'I think that you should really talk to Tad, Miss Simon.'  
  
'No,' I said more firmly. The tremble in my solid tone was obvious, but I didn't care. I couldn't remember what had happened. I remember piercing pain in my neck, feeling like I was empty. Or being emptied.  
  
And for some weird reason, needing to go pee?  
  
I stared in confusion at the corner of the room. What was happening? Who was this guy, anyway?  
  
'Who are you?' I asked him, glaring.  
  
He looked relieved. 'I just work for Mr Beaumont, that's all. You may call me Marcus.'  
  
Marcus.  
  
I shuddered. 'I'll go see Tad now,' I said, and shakily stood up. He watched me struggle to stand, even when I almost fell. Evil . . .  
  
At least he let me out of that stupid office. We both went down the elevator. I kept feeling like I was blacking out every ten seconds, only for about half a minute, because everything I saw kept jumping ahead. It seemed too quickly that Tad was rushing up to me.  
  
'Susie! What happened?' he asked, rushing up to me, looking very weird. The crucifix around his neck glinted gold in the bright light of his house. It was late. I knew that much.  
  
'That's what I wanna know,' I glared at Marcus, who shrugged his shoulders in his smart black suit, and glared right back at me.  
  
I was still shaking, and I didn't know why. Why would no one tell me WHY?  
  
I leant forward, so I was very near Tad. 'Do you know what happened?' I asked him quietly. He stood there, rigid. Then he moved back and looked at my face properly.  
  
'No,' he said slowly, as if he was going to regret it. He pulled nervously on his silk black tee. 'Why? What, Marcus said you collapsed. You, like, on medication or something?'  
  
'No,' I said indignantly. 'I am SO not. I'm not stoned, or high, or wasted either, for your information. I am perfectly sane, too. It's your dad that I think is on something.'  
  
He twitched. 'What did you say?'  
  
'Your dad,' I said, frowning. Trying to remember. 'He . . . he a cannibal or something? He tried to bite me, Tad.'  
  
Tad shook his head at me. 'What are you on about?'  
  
Angrier, I said, 'Your stupid dad! He's a psycho, Tad. Better believe it. He's a sick man. Is HE on medication?'  
  
Tad backed away from me, a look of resentment surfacing on his dark face. His features, they were all thin. His mouth, his eyes. But his nostrils were flaring. Like he was angry with me.  
  
'You're full of it,' he snarled. 'My dad . . . he's fine.'  
  
'No, he's not,' I retaliated. 'He needs help. You can't just go around trying to sink your teeth into someone, it's –'  
  
'Shut up!' he yelled at me. 'You don't know anything! How hard did you bang your head, you cow.' Well, slightly stronger language than cow, but work with me.  
  
The scene jerked in front of my eyes. Ten seconds later . . .  
  
'Go on, ask him,' I challenged. 'Ask him. Make him go out at daylight. That dumb crucifix you wear on your neck? Put it in his hand, Tad. Do that, okay?'  
  
His fists were balled and shaking. 'You're . . . you're . . . '  
  
'I'm what? Wrong? Go ahead, prove me wrong. I'm going home,' I snapped at him furiously. 'How I'm getting home, I don't know. I'll walk if I have to. But I'm not staying here any longer while you're in denial. Your dad is a v. . .' I couldn't say it. Saying it would make it sound true. And I didn't believe in them! Vampires? I already said, I am NOT Buffy. I am BRUNETTE, for a start. I fight GHOSTS, not blood sucking fiends. I'm a mediator not a vampire slayer. So what was UP with this? Why did suddenly a fictional monster pop into reality?  
  
Blackness again.  
  
'You're pale,' Tad said, and ran his hands through his dark hair. 'You can't bloody walk forty miles at this time of night. I'll . . . ' he sighed with irritation, and if I wasn't mistaken, anger.' He was STILL angry? He wasn't over it already? Oh, please. 'I'll freakin' drive you home then. But this is over, Susie.'  
  
'Don't,' my lip curled, 'call me that. And "this" never really existed, Thaddeus,' added spitefully. But then I swayed, and would have hit the ground if he hadn't have caught me.  
  
He walked me to the door. I saw Marcus standing in the shadow, still glaring. His lips formed the words, "Keep your mouth shut."  
  
I blanched, and looked away hastily. Oh, I was so confused. I couldn't think straight. Blood loss can do that to you . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Paul's POV.  
  
So it had happened. He'd found me . . . After all this time I thought I was safe from him, but no. I was wrong. No longer could I hide here, in this old New York apartment with the depressing blue atmosphere, the broken shards of glass, the drunken guy that I'd killed to get my sanctuary, and no light. I had to go back. To Suze.  
  
I couldn't believe what I'd done. I'd put Suze in exactly the same boat that I'd been in. A boat with the same destiny of the bloody Titanic. To sink . . . I had traded her for my well-being. She was the thing I wanted – craved – most in the world. I couldn't exist without her, with the possibility of her to sustain me, and now she was as good as dead. This deal I'd made to keep me alive – well, not alive, but still of this earth – had been something that I hadn't thought through.  
  
My demon had returned.  
  
I never told you about the demon, didn't I? The one who I'd sent all of the ghosts who came to me to. They all when to him. What he did with them, I do not know. But he used them in horrible ways to escalate his power. And then he'd turned on me, demanding my life. I was a shifter. And he needed a shifter. I tried to bring Jesse to him, but that didn't pan out, exactly. In fact, it went as well as blowing my brains out. And not the good blowing, either. I mean, the bullets, firearms blowing. (A/N: See Twisted World, Chapter 8)  
  
So I said I'd give him Suze instead.  
  
How could I have done that? I wanted her! No one else could have her! She was mine from the very moment I saw her. Mine for the taking. I'd taken her, no matter how much she thought she loved De Dickless. Ha, love? That wasn't love. It was companionship. Weakness. I was love. I was the ultimate in love. She loved me, she just didn't know it . . .  
  
Way to prove your love, Paul, bartering her off like some trading card.  
  
I glared around darkly. Shadows rose all around me, in this terrible room. I'd lived here for weeks now! Sure, I went out occasionally for the night to fellow ghosts – of the female variety – for, well, company, but other than that, I was stuck here. I'd become a strong ghost. I felt almost too powerful. My strength and intensity had yet to be matched. I couldn't wait to see the look on Jesse's face when he fought me . . . and I killed him. Easily, too. Not even giving him the satisfaction that he was a challenge for me. The power that crackled through my body had ignited from my rage, fiery yet freezing cold at the same time. I felt power like I never had experienced in my life or afterlife.  
  
And it felt good . . .  
  
So there was no way I was going to let some punk demon ass rip this opportunity to seize everything I wanted from me.  
  
And there was absolutely NO way that he was going to get his moldy hands on my Suze . . .  
  
I don't know how this power had come to me in such a short time. I felt drugged. Drunk with deadly energy. Nothing would stop me. Not now, and not ever. Not even Jesse anymore.  
  
I sank smugly on the moldy bed, staring at my hands. Power transferred vibrantly in sparks of blue electricity. It illuminated my face and my hands, casting all the shadow regions into complete blackness in contrast. It was night, but even in the day no light entered here.  
  
I smirked again.  
  
No one . . . Not you, Suze. No, you're not going to get rid of me, you're going to be mine. And in a total non Valentine's Day way.  
  
I meant forever.  
  
Laying back slowly on the bed, I thought of her.  
  
My Susannah.  
  
Susie.  
  
Too long had I fought for her from the scabby claws of De Bastardo to have her taken by this demon. He'd already caused me to be dead, he wasn't going to steal my reason for existing. Suze . . .  
  
Too long had it been. I yearned to see those glittering emerald eyes flash with humour again. I craved her magnificent head of perfect russet curls. I longed to run my hands down that body that drove me insaaaaaaaaaane . . .  
  
She's making you crazy, Paul.  
  
She's robbing you of your sanity.  
  
Ha. I have sanity still? Um . . . no. That went with my life.  
  
Breathing deeply so it hurt, even though it wasn't necessary, I thought of her so hard it gave me a headache. Pain? Why do I still feel pain?  
  
Ghosts can still feel pain of the heart.  
  
It was . . . heartache.  
  
I needed her. She needed me! She was just too blind to see it, God dammit! Shit, if she'd bloody get off her high horse and stop acting like she was higher than me, she'd see me.  
  
I wasn't beneath her.  
  
I was in control. I had the power over her.  
  
I haunted her, even though I was so far away. She was inside me. I'd taken her in that last kiss. Stolen her life, a bit of her essence, replacing it with my own. We were linked on a spectral level. A sub-conscious one.  
  
She dreamt about me, and it killed her. It ripped her apart. I enjoyed her pain, watching her suffer. I enjoyed entering her mind night after night, tantalizing her, enticing her, knowing that eventually she would crack. Give up, give in. She would want me more than she wanted anything. More than food, water, God, even clothes. If it didn't beat her, it would God damn destroy her instead.  
  
Either way worked for me, just as long as I got her in the end.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
Tad drove me home in silence. Not a word was spoken. He was furious with me for dissing his dad, and I was furious with him because he was so stupid. He also had a major denial issue happening there too. I slammed his car door closed as I hopped out when he got to my driveway. I heard him call me a word that I don't think was deserved of my part. But big deal. He was an idiot.  
  
Fuming, I burst into the house. Everyone was asleep, except, surprise, Dopey. He was parked in front of the TV, watching some movie.  
  
'What you watching?' I snapped at him, slipping off my jacket and settling heavily over the couch opposite him.  
  
'Just started,' he muttered, his eyes riveted on the TV. There was this actor – what's his name again? – with this oddball looking guy. Oh, how nice. Whatzizname actor just got shot in the stomach.  
  
'So you are watching a movie called "Just Started"? I checked, cynical.  
  
'No, you loser. It's the Sixth Sense. The movie just started. Get lost if you're going to keep talking,' he grunted, 'And if you're going to watch, go get me something to eat.'  
  
'No on your life,' I shot at him, but at that moment, my belly made the most embarrassing moan that I've ever heard. I hadn't eaten, of course.  
  
Dopey tore his eyes away from the screen to give me a funny look. 'That was gross,' he commented.  
  
'Watching you eat is gross,' I countered. 'So that is why I'm not getting you food. That, and you're big enough and ugly enough to get it yourself.'  
  
'Piss off, Suze,' he glared, and crossed his arms angrily. Dopey is such a jerk. Why couldn't I have a normal, nice stepbrother who closed his mouth when he ate and didn't flirt shamelessly with all the girls at my school how had cleavage? I mean, please. Why me?  
  
No. I got Bradley Ackerman, didn't I?  
  
Groaning, I heaved myself up and snatched some left over spaghetti from the fridge, and heated it up. I then halved it for me and Dopey. What? I know, I'm too nice for my own good. Really annoyed by then – and my neck was stabbing painfully with movement, my hands were itchier than ever, and Dopey is such a loser – I shoved the bowl at him.  
  
'You didn't get me a fork,' he said, looking down.  
  
'Oh, you noticed,' I made a mocking face. 'Get off your ass and get one.'  
  
He just shrugged and downed the whole thing in about ten seconds. I couldn't believe it! It was hideous! It was not of this world! Gross! Inhumane!  
  
A very good way to eat without a fork.  
  
I started getting into the movie. The Sixth Sense. I hadn't seen it before.  
  
(A/N: For the person who said she should have seen it before, due to her comparing Jack Slater to Cole in Darkest Hour, well, this is her watching it, isn't it? This is where she sees it for the first time. That was kind of the point?)  
  
I'd heard about that briefly. Ah, Bruce Willis, that was the actor. I watched, absorbed, as the thriller continued. Haley Joel Osmet was a bloody good little actor, I tell you. It was a creepy movie. Then, it came to a bit where the characters "Cole" and "Malcolm" were in the hospital after Cole had just had his "seizure."  
  
"I'm ready to tell you my secret now," Cole whispered. I watched Malcolm lean in.  
  
"I . . . I . . . I see dead people . . . "Cole revealed.  
  
I stared.  
  
'So?' I muttered.  
  
Dopey grunted. 'Huh?'  
  
'I said, so? He can see ghosts, who gives?' I said angrily. God, the WHOLE movie was about this? For God's sake, what crap.  
  
'It's just a movie, you dork. Shut up.'  
  
'No, but really. They're making this big thing about it. Who gives a crap? So? I hear that media – ' What was I SAYING?! And to DOPEY?! Argh, me and my fat mouth, I swear. We are going to get us killed. My mouth and I, I mean.  
  
Dopey was giving me this funny look, like I'd just asked him if he folded or scrunched his toilet paper. I stared back at the movie. Awww . . . pity the movie turned out like that. I might have enjoyed it if it was something else.  
  
AND it was incorrect. People would get the wrong idea after seeing this! Ghosts DON'T look like they did when they died, exactly. That was wrong! They looked like they did when they were most healthy, most alive. As far as I knew, anyway. And things just didn't happen around them as if nothing was wrong. How RUDE was that to say that? I was highly offended by it, and I kept scoffing at everything, until Dopey literally jumped up and physically tried to strangle me. It would have been just annoying, but noooo. I'd just had my neck bitten into, right? So Dopey? Sorry . . .  
  
I slugged him and went to bed.  
  
My life is SO screwed. Vampires?! May I say for the millionth time, I am NOT BUFFY! I DEAL WITH GHOSTS, DAMMIT!!!  
  
~*~  
  
No, this was not happening!  
  
'Stop, get out of my stinking head!' I snapped at him. This was getting old, and fast.  
  
Yet why was I still terrified? WHY?! Clutching my head, I stumbled back.  
  
'I'm coming for you,' Paul hissed at me.  
  
'No, don't,' I begged. 'Stay away from me. Stop coming to me in my dreams.'  
  
'But you love me,' he stressed, with gritted teeth. 'You won't admit it to yourself, Suze. Forget about Jesse –'  
  
'Don't –' I squealed, and turned away sharply.  
  
Silence.  
  
'Oh, I get it . . . ' Paul said in a volume so deadly quiet. 'He broke it off, didn't he?'  
  
'No, mind your own –'  
  
'No, I'm wrong,' he continued. A hand rested on my shoulder, and held me tightly. I was deadly still. He WASN'T to know.  
  
'Yeah, you're wrong. He didn't break up with me,' I said, my voice sounding very husky. I was scared. Why did he torture me? It wasn't fair! I was going over the edge. What did he want? My sanity? Jeez, just piss off already.  
  
'No . . . ' I heard him chuckle darkly. Another hand settled gently on my waist, but pressurizing once it had landed. 'He didn't dump you . . . you dumped him.'  
  
'I SO did not!' I tried to say, but it didn't come out. Not much did.  
  
I could feel his body molding against me. Coming so close I ached. I moaned. 'Please, stop,' I pleaded in despair. He held me even tighter, constricting me around the waste. I tried to cry out, but there was no sound.  
  
'You did,' he said into my hair, smelling it. 'You jumped to conclusions, Suze. Didn't you? And you know why?' he breathed . . .  
  
I released a shuddering breath, my mouth and eyes open in silent horror.  
  
'Don't say it . . . '  
  
'Because secretly,' he voyaged on, pressing me further into him, so forcefully I could no absolutely nothing, 'You want it to be over, Suze. There are other things that you want. That you need. That you love . . . Love so intensely, the emotion is fatal to anything that stands in the way. It hurts like crazy, and nothing seems to make sense. You wanted it to be over between you and Jesse,' he growled softly, 'Because you want me.'  
  
'No –'  
  
'So bad . . .' he nuzzled his nose against my ear, touching my neck. My bite-free neck. He clutched my wrists severely, stopping my blood flow.  
  
'No,' I repeated, but it sounded more like "nuph."  
  
'Desire.'  
  
'Paul, stop,' I whined, 'You're hurting me, don't!'  
  
'Love hurts, Susie . . .' He kissed my neck gently, smirking again.  
  
He enjoyed this. This . . . punishment. What did I do WRONG?!  
  
The hopelessness was eating me. It was killing me.  
  
'They're be nothing left of me,' I squinted my eyes shut against the pain of this knowledge. Oh, it hurt so bad . . .  
  
'Desire . . . I'm coming home, Suze.'  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
I'll get another chapter up soon! I was supposed to put more in here, but I have a computer time limit! I might be about four days or so updating due to resurfacing of homework flood, so bear with me? Good people!  
  
Regards, MystAngel. 


	8. Out of the Frying Pan

Despite the complaints I have returned. Lol. Nah, check out the sequel to "Get Out Jesse and Never Come Back," guys! I was tempted to, you know, call it "Get Back Jesse and Never Go Out" but that would have been WAY ironic. So I settled with "Power of Love." It's gonna be pretty good, I reckon. So hang in there . . . might be a bit infrequent in updating, I got a lot on my plate, okay? Yo, thanks guys. You seriously rule, you know that? I really mean it. You guys are the best . . . Reading your beautiful reviews is a highlight of my gloomy days. I'm having a rough patch at the moment . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
'Poison-oaky hands, two bumps on my neck . . . somebody really wants to destroy my image,' I said, disgruntled.  
  
I was slumped in a chair in Father Dom's office. Yes, on a Saturday. Hey, don't tease me. It was bad enough. 'It looks like I have a hickey.'  
  
Father Dom gave me a weird look.  
  
He coughed and put a stack of papers away in his drawer. 'Susannah,' he said, fixing me with a steady, intense blue eyed gaze. I could see the anxiety glaring from behind his eyes. 'Oh, I would never have believed this to be true . . . Well, I probably would have, seeing ghosts are also real when most people think that they are not, but . . . oh my . . . ' He rubbed his chin fretfully. 'A vampire. A real vampire bit you . . . Much as I hate to, er, ask, are you sure it wasn't the result of a, well, romantic event?'  
  
'Ew!' I said in disgust, 'Padre, I am SO not seeing anyone else. Well, I was seeing kind of seeing Tad . . . which kind of defeats the purpose of my entire argument . . . But it has NOTHING to do with . . . a kink thing!' I denied. 'Father D, for a priest, you have a very suspicious mind.'  
  
He shrugged, and looked away briefly, embarrassed, but then his eyes snapped back to me. 'Let me see this bite, Susannah.'  
  
'Feel free,' I said, crossing my legs, 'You come here though. Now that I think about it, I kind of do feel a little lightheaded . . .' I said softly, holding my head sarcastically. 'Yeah, lack of blood. Oooh,' I continued.  
  
'Susannah, please,' he said. 'Spare me.' He came and inspected the wound on my neck. He touched the raised bumps very gently frowning. I sighed impatiently, still feeling really woozy. I reminisced on the dream that I'd had last night. For some reason, there seemed to be a dark finality to it, like it was the last dream I'd ever have. My head was aching from thinking about those words, over and over again. Whispered words . . . "I'm coming home, Suze. I'm coming home . . . "  
  
'Do you know how much blood he did take?' Father Dominic said, sounding very alarmed, and very convinced all of a sudden. 'You're so pale, Susannah.'  
  
I blinked. 'Uh, I don't remember. I kept blacking out, I think. It was really traumatic,' I snapped, annoyed. 'Don't expect me to remember it.'  
  
He stepped away and went back to sitting opposite me. 'Understandable,' he said. 'Getting you to remember things that are school related is hard enough. Anyway, so tell me more about this "Red" lady you mentioned.'  
  
Yeah, I know, I SUCK. I got the Father's help, because, let's face it, I'd screwed up the last attempt. I obviously couldn't handle it on my own. And don't make me feel worse than I already did. I felt so crappy, it wasn't funny. Like I'd failed, or something . . . what? Have you seen how that hippie looks at you? The eyes, they're haunting and all sad and stuff. It's so horrible. I felt WAY guilty.  
  
I told him everything I knew, which wasn't much. In the meantime, my head was becoming increasingly painful. NEVER again would I date another vampire spawn. It sucks! Oh, God . . .  
  
I sighed in my seat. 'Father D, I'd better go now, I really don't feel well,' I said, not lying for once. Everything was kinda fuzzy, you know?  
  
Father Dom shifted, distracted from his thoughts. 'Why yes. Of course. I will meanwhile, see what we can find about our undead friends.'  
  
'Ghosts?' I asked cluelessly.  
  
Father Dom rolled his eyes. 'Vampire, Susannah,' he said with annoyance. His look totally said "duh."  
  
I twitched. Hey, I was suffering from BLOOD LOSS, okay?  
  
~*~  
  
'Hey, you the mediator?'  
  
I turned around, and by all of the construction workers that were – finally – repairing the breezeway, this little boy stood staring up at me. Now normally this would have been a highly strange section for a little kid – who wasn't supposed to be in this area with the high school kids – to be asking if I could gab to corpses.  
  
But this little dude was kind of one of them.  
  
So that's okay.  
  
It was pretty sad. Someone so young to be dead. Life stopping. It was so sad . . .  
  
Oh well.  
  
'Hey buddy,' I smiled. What? I was warm with the little tikes. THEY couldn't do all that much to me, right? Well, not unless they were direct from Village of the Damned and knew all my secrets or something spazzed like that.  
  
I watch WAY too much Simpsons, right?  
  
But yeah . . .  
  
'I got a bit of a problem . . . ' he muttered, his hands in his pockets. I dimly remembered CeeCee mentioning him, I think. Timothy? Died from Leukemia? Something like that. Poor little dude . . .  
  
'Well, tell me about it,' I said patiently.  
  
~*~  
  
'Here Spike!' Adam yelled out. 'Spikey Spikey Spikey! Come on, you stupid filthy feline excuse –'  
  
'Adam, stop it,' CeeCee frowned, still staring avidly at her laptop. She was sitting under her traditional umbrella, as to protect her hyper- sensitive skin from the blazing Californian sun. 'Cats have feelings, you know.'  
  
I snorted. 'Uh huh.'  
  
'Cork it, Funnel Webb,' Adam beamed like a madman, as CeeCee clenched her teeth and clutched the sides of her computer incredibly hard, 'I'm enjoying this.'  
  
That only served to confuse me. 'You enjoy walking around in a field with dead grass up to your knees, looking for a cat that could quite possibly be anywhere over Carmel, on a stinking hot day?'  
  
'It's not a stinking hot day, Suze.'  
  
'Well, you smell real bad, I just assumed.'  
  
Adam looked quite put out. 'Well, fine then. I'll just go –'  
  
'No!' I burst out. He shot me a smug look. 'Well you cork it to, Simon,' he said with a grin. 'SPIKE!'  
  
Rolling my eyes, I went and sat next to CeeCee on the prickly ground. It kind of itched my butt, further proving my theory that mediation was the pits. 'What are you looking for?'  
  
'Well,' she said slowly, her hands like lightning over the keyboard, 'I'm looking up Red Beaumont. You know? After . . . what you told me?'  
  
I nodded slowly. Okay, don't get suspicious. I didn't tell her much. And certainly not about the VAMPIRE thing. No, CeeCee would do her nut if she discovered that vampires existed to. I mean, I did, right? How would the trust-science-not-religion obsessor react?  
  
I wagered smashing her head into the laptop.  
  
I tried to get more out of Cee, but she was kind of fascinated by what she was finding. Adam came over, looking very sweaty.  
  
'I give up,' he groaned, dusting his pants off from the tips of the grass that were clinging stubbornly to the fabric, 'This cat's a fugitive.'  
  
'Joy,' I sighed. Timothy would continue to bug me then.  
  
CeeCee, I realized, was peaking very furtively at Adam, but stopped when I gave her a very pointed look. 'So,' she squeaked, changing the pensive subject, 'Why are you wearing a polo neck then, Simon? Bit hot, right?'  
  
I looked away very quickly. Damn, she noticed . . .  
  
'Oh, shhhh Suze!' Adam elbowed me, 'She can't know! Don't show her the hickey, at all costs!'  
  
I found that quite alarming, if the way my hand shot to my neck protectively was any indication. Adam looked taken aback for one. 'Whoa, joking,' he said carefully. 'You don't have one, r-'  
  
'No!' I said too quickly, to loudly, to high-pitched for belief. Adam nodded, and turned away, and I relaxed my hand, but that little dickhead, when my guard was down, he whipped out and pulled the collar down.  
  
'Holy shit,' he gasped.  
  
CeeCee looked up from her website – ha, "Webb" site . . . sorry, not funny – in fright. 'Huh?'  
  
She too looked. 'Oh my God,' she said in wonder. 'What IS that?!'  
  
I felt my face getting very VERY red. 'It's . . . um, a spider bite?' I finished feebly.  
  
'Funnel Webb bit ya!' Adam cried accusingly, pointing his finger at CeeCee dramatically.  
  
'Adam shut it. This is not the time,' CeeCee said. 'So Suze has got a hickey, we can live with –'  
  
'It is certainly NOT a hickey!' I protested, jerking away from Adam's hand on my polo neck. 'I am not seeing anyone else. Yes, Jesse dumped me, so what? I don't go and screw the nearest guy possible, right?'  
  
Unless they have incredibly sexy, soft voices on the phone that lure you to them and then they take you to meet psychotic dads who go all cannibal on you.  
  
But I didn't say that out loud.  
  
That would have been weird.  
  
CeeCee was frowning heavily. 'What spider was it?' she said doubtfully, coming around to see it again, but I twisted away from her to. 'Never mind . . .I, uh, can't remember. It was really bit, thought, and um, yeh.'  
  
'Suze, you need an anti-venom, if it was a poisonous one,' she said seriously. 'Spider bites can kill you. And a big one? Whoa, go to the hospital and get it checked out, Simon. Don't be a twit.'  
  
I sat staring at the ground, silently.  
  
Adam crossed his arms, and without warning, yelled, 'WHERE ARE YOU SPIKE?!'  
  
CeeCee and I both jumped a meter in the air in alarm, before promptly whacking Adam over the head with the nearest hard object we could find, unfortunately for CeeCee, the laptop. She screamed in protest when the screen zoomed into a tiny back square, her purple eyes bulging in horror.  
  
'You messed with the technology, you idiot! It's broken! No!' she wailed, furiously trying to recover the computer, to no avail. 'That had some good stuff about the Beaumonts, Suze! You're not going to know now!' she raged. 'But you BROKE MY COMPUTER!'  
  
Ow . . . my ears were SO taking a battering. 'I'm sorry,' I said, 'I was in the moment. It should be okay, CeeCee. Let me –'  
  
'NO,' she said firmly, hugging the device defensively to her chest, 'You kill machinery, Simon. Stay away or I'll hire an assassin.'  
  
'Cee,' I said reasonably, 'Press the "On" button?'  
  
'Whatever!' she snapped, 'That was the first thing I –'  
  
'Do it,' I cut her off.  
  
Disgruntled, she did. Surprise, surprise, the screen came back up.  
  
Her mouth was open in horror.  
  
'Go Suze,' Adam called from his cat-hunting expodition. 'So much for the computer genius Spider Webb. You got creamed.'  
  
CeeCee was turning quite purple by then, a very unusual colour for an albino.  
  
Suddenly, with a ferocious grown, a blur of orange leapt right at my face. I screamed, as fur blocked my nose and mouth, and my whole world turned a dark shade of amber. Dander tickled my nose horribly.  
  
'Ger-ogh-cahn-breaph!' my muffled words exploded out through the heavy monster attacking me. Claws were clinging to my hair! EW!  
  
The horrid beast was wrenched away from my face, and I could finally breathe again. Clutching my chest, I heaved forward, rapidly smoothing down my hair . . .  
  
'Oh my God,' CeeCee said for the second time.  
  
That about summed it up. The organism in front of us was – to be honest – disgusting. One ear was missing, it was OBSCENELY obese, and the fleece was out of this world, at about five inches wrong.  
  
'Oh my God,' I said in awe. It was just so . . . insulting to God's earth. I'm sorry, but it was.  
  
"Spike" spat at us all viciously.  
  
~*~  
  
(A.N: No Aunt Pru yet. It wasn't necessary, seeing as they already "know" right?)  
  
~*~  
  
I refused to dwell on those stupid Paul dreams. I refused to believe what he said to me, that I WANTED to be with him. Ha! As IF! That was just too gross to even contemplate. I mean, the NERVE of him saying that? Did he even think he stood a chance? He was SO beneath me. Six feet, to be exact. A dead asshole. He believed that he controlled me or something, manipulating my mind like that, making me feel so scared an helpless? Taking away all of my hope and my feeling of "self." Depriving me of my desperately needed sleep? How RUDE. I hated him. He wasn't worthy of these thoughts even!  
  
Do much for refusing to dwell on it, Suze.  
  
Oh, shut up . . .  
  
After we'd finally gotten home at about five-thirty – oh, I'm sorry. I failed to include that relevant information, "we." Yes, we. We being me, and the "it." That pony-like feline wannabe who needed a severe haircut and anger-management. It was at great sacrifice of MY Kate Spade (A/N: That's from memory, it's been AGES since I've read the book, tell me I'm right?) bag that we'd finally caught him. No, it. It didn't deserve sexuality. It was disgusting, and it hated me.  
  
And I didn't have a clue what to do with it.  
  
Timothy had moved on. I'd watched the big light-show with Adam and CeeCee when we'd finally found Spike, and even they saw the big white lights. It was pretty cool. But if I did something to the cat, then . . .well, - oh my God, I have a conscience! – I'd feel kid of guilty, you know? It was annoying and cross and spat everywhere and kept coughing hairballs all over the place, but I couldn't just DUMP it or kill it or something. That would be cruelty to animals. And while I wasn't sure if this was actually an animal or an alien, I didn't want to risk it.  
  
I felt so bad, though. The lightheadedness had developed into a crushing headache that pounded forcefully, making my brain seem like all the cells were exploding, one by one. I mean, OW.  
  
I sank onto my bed. Never had headaches been this bad. Not even the post shifting ones, that seemed to long ago.  
  
Jesse . . .  
  
I suddenly remembered. Jesse was no longer mine. In fact, he'd never been mine in the first place. He was a player, wasn't he? He'd used me. I could never make sense of it. He seemed to care. Seemed to feel. Which said a lot, most of the guys these days were lucky to frown when a bombing in New York was reported or something. Shallow gits they were . . .  
  
I grimaced horribly against the pain in my head. My brain was now ricocheting against my skull. I think . . . I think I had lost too much blood, you know?  
  
Querida Andres. What a shitty name, hey? I mean, what self-respecting mother would name her daughter "dear." Dear Andres? Sounded like the start of a letter! Not knowing her, I hated her. Stupid bitch, stolen away my Jesse. Stupid skank with her shifting powers and her Spanish language and her . . . well, I didn't know anything else about her, but she was probably prettier than I was. It's not a hard achievement. As Cora De Silva said, "She's not that pretty."  
  
Yay. I'm listening to HER now.  
  
Well, she was right, wasn't she?  
  
I stumbled into the kitchen, only to find mum and Andy rushing out the door. 'Hey!' I called, but they were already gone. I looked vaguely on the table, and saw a "Dinner's in the fridge" message scrawled on the back of a coupon for Sleepy's Pizza place. Not caring about my stomach, I grabbed a glass and sloshed it full of clear tap water, and grabbed a couple of random tablets, abstractedly checking that they weren't illegal, and downed them in a single swig. Anything to get rid of the throbbing, anything!  
  
Once again, my world swam. Surely someone was home?  
  
'Sleepy – uh, Jake?' I called softly up the stairs. Why were they dancing like that? I thought our stairs were supposed to stay still?  
  
No reply.  
  
'David!' I attempted. No response there either. And grasping at straws here, I yelled, 'Brad!'  
  
But there was no one in the house. Even Max didn't come.  
  
Flashes of black . . . getting quicker . . .  
  
My knees buckled and I sank to the floor . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Hands.  
  
Hands were stroking my face.  
  
Where was I? What was going on? Was it time for school? And why did my head hurt so bloody much? This wasn't fair . . .  
  
'Susie . . .' a voice whispered deviously.  
  
My heart thudded.  
  
No.  
  
Not . . .  
  
But it was only Tad.  
  
I relaxed. 'Oh, God, I thought you were someone else,' I smiled. I was obscurely aware that I was on a couch. 'What's going on?'  
  
I heard him chuckled slightly. I kept my eyes closed. Opening them hurt too much. 'You must have . . . passed out, Susie.'  
  
Don't call me that . . . never call me that.  
  
But I didn't say a word.  
  
Paul off the brain.  
  
'Where am I?' I asked.  
  
Again, he chuckled. Was it just me, or did he sound . . . weirder? His voice wasn't quite so quiet anymore. It was fuller, richer in tone even. I didn't like it.  
  
'You're still in your house. Your parents are out. It's just you and me.'  
  
'And Spike,' I added groggily.  
  
I felt his hand stiffen. 'Spike?' he said sharply.  
  
I winced at his volume. 'Yeah . . . the cat.'  
  
He relaxed. 'Oh, that's . . . that's all right then.'  
  
His hand continued to touch my face soothingly. 'I want you awake,' he whispered to me.  
  
That got my attention. 'What?' I asked, forcing my eyes open.  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
Never, since CeeCee, had a seen someone so incredibly pale. The ashen colour of his skin was such a contrast to the dark tan it had been. It was horrible, sickening. Grey.  
  
'Tad,' I commented, still sleepy, 'You need a sun-bake, dude. That's one hell of a colour. It's SO not you.'  
  
What was with the little chuckles? I mean, Jeez! Freak me out, right?  
  
So it hadn't clicked yet . . . No, I'm not blond. I'm a natural brown. It just, well, took a while to connect.  
  
I looked up at him again, and his eyes were smiling down at me. Not kindly, but . . . I dunno, like he really wanted a hamburger, and by God, he'd do anything to get his hands on that hamburger.  
  
But I doubted he wanted hamburgers, specifically.  
  
'You can't talk,' he replied softly, 'You're no golden brown yourself.'  
  
'Yeah, whatever,' I said, trying to heave myself to a vertical position, but – he held me down? What was WITH that?  
  
'Tad?' I asked, 'Uh, I need to sit up.'  
  
'No you don't. You're fine the way you are . . .'  
  
This was now HIGHLY odd. Was he, like, wasted or something?  
  
'No, I'm not,' I stressed, pushing on my hands to sit up, by I felt strong hands close around my wrists suddenly, and slip them out from beneath me. Huh?  
  
The fogginess of my vision drifted away slowly. I stared up at him. 'Tad, what the hell are you doing?'  
  
He smirked down at me. 'Well, you know that advice you gave me with my dad?' he said thoughtfully.  
  
I indistinctly remembered something. 'Yeah?'  
  
'I took it.'  
  
Three words. Three words that had caused me to register to everything that was happening. I was alone in my house. Tad was here. Tad was pale. Tad had TAKEN MY ADVICE.  
  
'And you know,' he continued, his voice very breathy now – hungry almost. 'Why I put my chain in his hand, the weirdest thing happened, Suze. His hand burnt. Isn't that schitzo or what?'  
  
Again, I tried to struggle, but I couldn't move! Why? Surely not that stinking blood loss thing again. I mean, ENOUGH with that!  
  
'And he was pretty pissed when I found about his little secret,' Tad breathed, trailing his forefinger up my neck, one that was now fully exposed. Yes, he had TAKEN OFF my polo neck, only to reveal the strappy tank top beneath it. My heart was pounding in an inconsistent rhythm, and my head hurt with dread. Oh my God . . .  
  
'And why I reacted a little worse than I should have, you know what he said?' he asked, his eyes looming millimeters away from mine.  
  
I merely blinked, and his corners of his lips rose slightly. 'He said the dead don't say much . . . '  
  
Oh God. No!  
  
'Well, I wanted to finish off the job that dad obviously started.' I watched in paralyzed horror as I - literally – say his teeth elongate! I mean, REALLY! They like, GREW. I tried to yell, but his hand whipped over my mouth. 'Have a nice sleep. Be seeing you soon, on the other side. I'm soooooo thirsty, Suze . . . '  
  
If Red Beaumont sucking me dry wasn't me end, this bloody hell was. There wasn't anyone here to help me now.  
  
Again, I felt those two points stab my jugular, slowly and deliberately, enjoying the sudden stiffness of my body. All my senses were numbed. He was taking me . .  
  
*There'll be nothing left of me . . . *  
  
'No,' I tried to choke out, but my throat was incapable of speech. I was incapable of movement, of thought . . .  
  
Blood abandoned me, gradually, excruciatingly . . . I felt like laughing, it hurt so much, and yet it didn't. His hands squeezed my shoulders, begging for more.  
  
'You taste . . . so good. My first,' he shuddered.  
  
I was frozen. Rigid.  
  
Well, at least I didn't die in a freak accident. At least it was creative. Right? See, I'm positive. Really.  
  
Oh, screw this. What's holding me back here anyway? Jesse hates me. There's nothing. Time to let go . . .  
  
Love ya mum . . . don't divorce again . . .  
  
But this time, when I felt the teeth being withdrawn, they were done so with a jerk, and not a slowness. I slumped back, trying to support my head, but failing. What? Was he, like, coming up for breath or something? Going to return to me? I could barely think.  
  
But one thing sure sent my train of thoughts a'chuggin'.  
  
'Didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food, Thaddeus?'  
  
No, that voice. That drawling, dripping, deadly voice . . .  
  
Paul was back.  
  
God, it would have been less painful for the vampire to finish me off! Jesus, he has NO consideration for other people's ideal deaths.  
  
I heard breaks of shouting, and the sound of flesh collision. It seemed these two members of the undead could make contact. Was I dead to? It felt like it . . . but no. Faint as it was, I could still feel my head pounding with the rushing of limited blood.  
  
A wave of terror that I have known only twice before engulfed me. Paul was back . . . his nightmare self had emerged into my reality. No . . . no, it wasn't true. He'd left. He'd let me be . . .  
  
I forced my eyes open. I had to try and run. I'd rather face Tad than Paul. And that was saying something, since I'd been welcoming my death with the now vampiric Tad. Using every ounce of energy I possessed, I manage to spectacularly . . . roll of the couch with a thud.  
  
Ow?  
  
I heard the fighting pause, and I saw them both staring at me.  
  
And I saw his eyes.  
  
With a crashing pain, it seemed horribly real. Oh, so real I could no longer remember how that thing called BREATHING went?  
  
Instantly, I was thrown ruthlessly back into a memory that punished me endlessly. Hands around my heck, knife at my chest, blue eyes, scars both physical and mental, promises . . . I screamed, astounded I still had the strength to do so. With a final punch, I saw Tad fall back. He was almost down . . .  
  
'This isn't done,' he growled furiously, and he took off through the window. Literally. Jumped into a glass pane. Suicidal bastard . . .  
  
And leaving me at the mercy of Paul Slater, who had rounded on me with stimulated, wide eyes, looking like he was about to get the thrill of his life . . .  
  
Shit.  
  
'I'm baaa-aaack,' he smirked darkly, too real for me to bear. He really was here. Back. And he was going to kill me.  
  
He advanced on me . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Cliffies. Don't you hate 'em? Me too. Now REVIEW and you might get one on the WEEKEND. See how nice you are, okay? Be good children . . .  
  
Regards, MystAngel.  
  
REVIEW!!! 


	9. And into the Fire

I'm back by popular demand! (Nah . . . sorry, I always wanted to say that. Again . . .sorry. Oh, God, now I'm blushing. I'm SORRY, OKAY?) I hope you like the chapter. I'm not sure if I do. But it's got lots of "Snow White" inclusions, so let's see . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
The terror that I suffered, and the blood that had been stolen immobilized me. Paul drew nearer with a menacing dark aura, clad in that slick black leather jacket that had not been present in my dreams. His face was tipped down at an evil slant. I recognized the rage in his eyes . . . eyes so icy blue they froze me with a mere gaze.  
  
Then I screamed bloody murder with the little energy I still had.  
  
Those crystallized blues widened in alarm, then rage again. With catlike grace, he swept down upon me, and held a forceful hand to my mouth. My voice was thwarted, and my brain hammered from the harsh change of sound to silence. I could barely move, the panic made the still existing blood in my body pound hard and painfully. Breath ripped at my lungs like thousands of little blades.  
  
'It's been a while, Susie . . . '  
  
His whisper effectively made that pain with the breathing thing stop. Reason? I could no longer breathe.  
  
'You're going to kill me . . . ' I realized. He was . . .  
  
He neglected my allegation, and stroked my face so gently it made my skin freeze agonizingly with his touch. 'I've waited a long time . . . '  
  
'Paul,' I tried to choke out, but no air was available to me, so it refused to come out.  
  
Why couldn't he have just left me to Tad? WHY? It would have been so much less painful. Tad had been killing me because he needed to. Paul, Paul would torture me, abuse me, just to make me feel the pain's intensity.  
  
Pain . . .  
  
It's something that I've made myself familiar with, both physical and emotional. But the pain inflicted by Paul was on a level on its own. I couldn't' describe it, but it was like mental, emotional, physical, and even on a spectral level, all at the same time.  
  
Paul needed to show me that he was the one in with the power . . .  
  
Again, I kept seeing flashed of black. I could no longer struggle in the slightest. All oomph was drained from me. I felt dead already.  
  
'Ah, I've been fading away, not seeing you,' he said with a low growl in his voice, sliding his hand beneath my head and supporting my back. I felt the cool leather he donned on my naked arms. He lifted my face so it was right in front of his. Seeing Paul's face that close, in reality, it was a terrible thing. It had been different in my dreams; there was always that sense of fantasy.  
  
This was real. So real . . .  
  
The darkness and the absence of the moon heightened my fear. Death was so close, I could smell it. It was corrosive and suffocating. Paul's hands were gently, but dominant. He knew perfectly well that I couldn't move.  
  
I hiccuped at the lack of oxygen, choking on my own spit or something. Paul's hand glided smoothly down my bare arm, leaving a trail of ice, and wild effects of my nervous system. He looked down from my eyes at me, and I saw his eyes blaze in the darkness. He moistened his lips with his tongue needlessly.  
  
'Is this worse than a nightmare, Suze?' he hissed, a superior smirk tugging at those violating lips.  
  
I swallowed, gasping for the air that I knew was too far away now.  
  
'Weird, this time? I don't want you dead,' he frowned, a thousand hidden meanings pelting down on me in a monsoon of warning. 'And definitely not a vampire. That would be like . . . game over.'  
  
This was all a game to him. My life, whether I lived or died.  
  
. . . And he seemed to play this game so well.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
Paul's POV  
  
She was so close to me . . . closer than she had been for these past weeks. She was so, so beautiful . . . More so than last time I'd seen her. Chaste, and pure. The perfection I so richly deserved after enduring what I had. I'd been going fricken CRAZY without her, without knowing I could always come back to see her shrink away from me in fear. This absence of dominance had been destroying me. I thrived from it, was sustained by it.  
  
And after this long wait, I'd been rewarded with a precious scenario. Little Susie was dying, wasn't she?  
  
I could no longer feel her breathing. She was still conscious though. I didn't understand what was happening to her, but I didn't care. It didn't matter, so long as I could make her suffer. That scream she'd pleasured me to just now, the first in so long, had been thrilling, rousing.  
  
There was no laughing at my leather this time . . .  
  
But just as I was muttering my goading words in her ear, something registered. She was dying . . . from a vampire bite. If she died, then, she'd be one of them. Realization dawned in me. No, I couldn't have that. If that was so, there was no hope for us. She wouldn't be the Suze that I loved, that I was addicted to. Because that's what I was.  
  
Addicted.  
  
I couldn't let her die. Not like this . . . It was me who had to kill her, if at all, not a stupid amateur vampire.  
  
That was when her eyes closed and her already limp body went even more flaccid. My mouth fell open . . . No . . . she wasn't . . . no . . .  
  
'Suze?' I shook her.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Shit!  
  
'SUSANNAH!' I roared, standing up rapidly in a feral manner. Shit! God damn it! God, calm down Paul . . . what can you do? First aid's pretty useless, seeing you don't have any air to give her, but mouth to mouth wouldn't be so bad in the meantime . . . No!  
  
I had to do something, get someone. I didn't believe that I was feeling panic, but I was. I couldn't lose her. I didn't lose . . . I NEVER lost!  
  
That was why I was so relieved when a voice – any voice – rang out gently from the front door.  
  
'Suze? Um, the door was kind of open. I got some more stuff on that Red guy.'  
  
I stopped dead. This voice struck a sense of familiarity in me.  
  
'Suze? You home? Why's it so dark?'  
  
And when she swept around the corner, I was able to put a name to the voice.  
  
Aaah . . . Snow White . . .  
  
She froze in horror when she saw Suze lying motionlessly on the ground, pale as her own skin.  
  
'Holy shit,' she breathed, her hand shooting to her mouth. 'Suze! Wake up!' She fell down beside her, shaking her and trying to get her to wake up. She was no longer facing me. It was evident that she was crying. Whoa, didn't want her in a my crisis situation . . .  
  
I watched the scene, feeling very much to a spectator. For someone who seemed to have so much intelligence, she wasn't doing the first thing one would do in this situation – calling 911.  
  
So I took matters into my own hands.  
  
I focused to Snow, connecting with her aura, shutting my eyes, and concentrating on my objective.  
  
With a wave of something very cold, I knew that I was visible and audible to her.  
  
'Hello Snow,' I said indifferently.  
  
I saw her back go severely rigid, and time seemed to stop. It took forever to get any kind of response.  
  
'You,' she choked out. Her swaying white hair gleamed in the near darkness. It was like a sheet of white silk.  
  
'Yes me.'  
  
Again, it was ages before she replied. I never knew that she was so scared of me, ha. I laughed in spite of myself. Which was probably a bad move.  
  
'You did this?' she asked, still not moving a muscle as she held two fingers on Suze's wrist, forgetting to check if she still had a pulse or not.  
  
I was gobsmacked. I was. Sorry, but it seemed so weird at the time, me KILLING Suze like that. I know, I've tried killing her before, so it shouldn't have been such a shock, but well, it was.  
  
'I don't think so,' I snapped at her.  
  
Slowly, vigilantly, she rotated to face me.  
  
Her pale face was trembling in a fusion of anger, and dread, so it seemed. I never knew that I had this affect on her. This was pleasant news to me.  
  
'Well what did you bloody do?' she asked. It took courage for her to say these accusing words, I could tell.  
  
I blinked lazily. 'I did nothing, Snow.' She flinched at the moniker, to my amusement. 'I was merely calling on you to tell you that normal people would consider it the right time to ring emergency about now. She's dying, if you didn't notice . . . Snow,' I added, smirking maliciously at her.  
  
She gulped, and subconsciously edged away the tiniest bit. 'I know that,' her voice quavered. Her eyes were shining. Whoa. Someone with compassion. So rare for me to meet one, with the people I associated with.  
  
'Well?' I pressed on, and I stepped very loudly on the ground, 'Call.'  
  
She recoiled again, and hightailed it to the phone, talking breathlessly into the receiver.  
  
'Hello? Um, my friend has fainted,' she said.  
  
'She's lost heaps of blood,' I offered boredly.  
  
'She's lost a lot of blood . . . I'm not sure, I just came in. No, there, um . . . there was no one else here when I came,' she said, her voice getting quieter by the moment. 'I don't know. It doesn't look like she's been cut anywhere . . . Of course she's still alive! That's why I'm bloody calling! So you can get – sorry . . . Address, um, 99 Pinecrest, I think, oh, what you said then. (A/N: I know that's wrong, can someone tell me what it really is? I CAN'T remember, for the life of me!) Yeah. Only about ten minutes . . . okay, thank you. Please hurry,' she ended feebly, placing the phone back on the hook very stiffly.  
  
She turned to me, not looking at my eyes directly. 'They're on their way,' she said heavily, touching her face and keeping her distance. So she should . . . I'm not tame.  
  
'So Snow,' I grinned slyly, 'How have you been keeping?'  
  
She frowned. 'What do you care? Who are you, anyway?'  
  
I laughed at that. Of course I didn't care. The only answer I was hoping for was "I toss and turn every night in fear that you'll come back to haunt me." Otherwise, I wasn't interested.  
  
'Who am I?' I smirked, 'Aaah, not for you to know, Snow.'  
  
Snow White crossed her arms indignantly, and glared right into my eyes. 'You beat her up, didn't you?'  
  
'I told you –'  
  
'Not now, before. You gave her those scars on her wrists, right? The ones she always looks at when she's done something wrong, or she's unhappy? You . . . you assaulted her, didn't you?'  
  
I felt myself getting angrier by the second. How dare she . . . how dare she just fling these accusations around so carelessly?  
  
'Yes,' I snarled, taking a threatening step towards her. 'I did all but the scars. You happy?'  
  
She stumbled back. 'No, of course I'm not happy. It doesn't change anything, you admitting it. I can just put a face to the person who's made my best friend's life hell.'  
  
That infuriated me and slaked me at the same time. I'd made Suze's life a hell for reasons that Snow knew nothing of. Suze wanted me so badly it hurt, and it affected her in a way that tore her world apart. That was the hell that Snow recognized. But she was indicting me again . . . She had no right.  
  
'Shut up,' I scowled, picking up one of the chairs threateningly. 'This doesn't concern you. You know nothing about me, or why I do things.'  
  
'I know your kind,' she sneered right back at me. 'You're like . . . like a serial killer, I'll bet. You kill because you enjoy it. You hurt people because it makes you feel powerful!' I turned my head away from her. How could a stupid albino pinpoint my motives like that? Was she a mind reader or something? An emotion that I was slow to identify was escalating in my mind. Guilt. She was making me feel . . . guilt. It was a feeling I prided myself on lacking. How could SHE make me feel it? 'You know it's wrong, but that's what makes it so fun. You relish pain. And fear . . . Am I right?' she demanded aggressively. 'AM I RI-'  
  
I cracked.  
  
'SHUT UP!' I roared to her face.  
  
I lunged at her, and shoved her brutally to the ground with the chair that I was holding. She screamed and slid across the floor, her hair flying into a messy shield across her face. Her hand shot to her chin, which was bleeding a little. Breathing sharply, she lay on the floor, not moving, not wanting another rise from me.  
  
'Don't EVER judge me,' I spat in my rage. 'You don't know me. You don't know anything about me, you little bitch.'  
  
My temper had been quick to flare up. Once again. This rage that I'd learnt to subdue had erupted again. Snow finally stood up, and ran back to Suze. After a moment of standing solitary, controlling my tantrum, I followed silently.  
  
I saw her clutching Suze's hand, very hard, her eyes closed and her breath unkempt. A mysterious glow played across her face. I couldn't have imagined what it was, as there wasn't a moon tonight, and this street didn't have any near streetlights.  
  
Then I realized.  
  
It was me that was glowing.  
  
I was the ghost.  
  
And oh, did I know it.  
  
Groaning, I sank in front of her. 'Look, Snow . . . Sorry,' I said acidly. I felt no sorrow, but . . . I didn't want to hurt her. I had no reason to. No, that didn't make sense. I had no reason to really hurt many people, but I did. The only reason I had killed some guy before was to get his clothes. I didn't feel bad about doing that at all.  
  
And Suze . . . She didn't deserve to be killed . . . I wouldn't have felt guilty at ALL for doing that. It would have meant I had won. That I had beat Jesse, that asshole.  
  
But Snow, she . . . I dunno. I knew she really didn't deserve it, I guess. She'd told the truth about me. I wasn't even savouring her fear and her pain, as she'd put it. I couldn't make sense of it, which was really pissing me off.  
  
She looked away from Suze, who was dead still. But oh so gently, I saw her chest rising and falling. Not much oxygen was entering her, but just enough to keep her alive for the moment. Her beautiful, innocuous face was frozen in time, and her lips were moving very softly as if she was muttering in her dreams. My lip curled . . . damn Thaddeus. Damn his sissy ass to hell. The bloody prick, taking Suze like he owned her. Suze was mine. I don't like sharing my things . . .  
  
'Is she going to die?' Snow whispered. I noticed she was looking right at me again. Her eyes, they were filled with tears. I blinked. Whoa . . . she cared too much.  
  
'No,' I said. 'Well, not if that fricken ambulance gets here. She'll need a blood transfusion. She's lost a hell of a lot of it, courtesy of Thaddeus and his stupid father. But this was all the doing of Marcus Beaumont, of course.'  
  
CeeCee looked tremendously perplexed. 'But . . . Marcus? I read about the Beaumonts, and it mentioned that there was a conspiracy about the real estate companies MountBeau and RedCo, that they killed to get their land. What does Marcus have to do with it?  
  
Should I tell her? No . . .  
  
'Hang on . . . ' she said very slowly. 'What do you mean, this was Tad's fault and his dad? How did they make her lose this much blood, without a mark on her?'  
  
I rolled my eyes. 'Isn't it obvious? Think. There is a mark of Suze. I'm looking right at it,' I said pointedly, staring at the bite on her neck.  
  
Snow followed my gaze, and gasped. 'The hickey?' she said.  
  
I snorted. What? It was funny. Hickey my ass.  
  
But then I kind of couldn't stop laughing. It was really a funny thing, for Suze to have a lovebite, for some reason.  
  
'It's not a bloody hickey,' I derided. 'Think Buffy, and you've got it.'  
  
She gave me a really weird look. 'As if,' she scorned. 'Don't go all Transylvanian on me, please.'  
  
I stopped laughing. 'I'm very serious, Snow. Bet you wouldn't have believed that ghosts were real in a million years. Suze told me that you were quite the science nerd,' I said.  
  
She looked insulted in her refusal to believe.  
  
'Well, different wording, but yeah. And Suze, well, she was bitten by a –'  
  
'Don't say it,' she said suddenly. 'You're messing with my head. Stop it.'  
  
'– A vampire . . . '  
  
She looked pained. 'No . . . No, why does this all have to be so COMPLICATED? Why can't Suze just have a NORMAL stalker? One with a HEARTBEAT?' she snapped, throwing Suze's hand down in disgust. I smirked.  
  
'Oh, it gets better. You wanna know who the demon is?'  
  
She yelled out. 'Enough! No, I do NOT want to know! I have to pass my midterms, and it's hard enough to remember the stuff I study for. Chuck in a whole plot line of vampires and demons and shit, well, I'm not going to have a spare millimeter in my head to cram in the stuff I need to know!' She stood up furiously.  
  
I just blinked . . . Whoa. Fiery, wasn't she?  
  
But she couldn't beat Suze on a warpath.  
  
I fondly remember the cartoon I'd drawn on the back of her homework so long ago. Now THAT had got a prize-winning reaction.  
  
'Okay,' I muttered, 'I'll keep it to myself then.'  
  
'You do that,' she retorted.  
  
Silence.  
  
She really was quite pretty, in a very white, very conservative way. ha, since when did I have such good taste and high standards? Probably since Suze . . . I was just assuming that because she was Suze's friend, she was like her. I eyed Snow with a smirk.  
  
'So,' I said, with a hint of suggestiveness, 'What should we do now? Keep each other . . . company?'  
  
What? I was bored, okay?  
  
She was revolted. 'Ew! My God, were you born with your legs apart or something? I hope they buried you in a "Y" shaped coffin, save you the strain . . .'  
  
Whoa . . . at least she was witty. I laughed in spite of myself.  
  
Thankfully, it was broken by the welcome sirens of an ambulance. Snow White sighed in relief. 'Thank God,' she said, standing up.  
  
Suze would live now . . . I was done here . . .  
  
Don't get me wrong . . . no, I wasn't just going all nice. I'm not nice. Never nice. I just didn't want Suze to die this way. If she did then she would be soulless, and I couldn't have that now. Oh, no. I knew that I was still the villain here. Just, maybe not the villain that Suze needed to be worried about at the moment. Seemed that Thaddeus Beaumont Junior, as it is, was pushing me out of my "Bad guy" seat. Well, as soon as I eliminated him, I'd get right back into it, and make Suze's life a living hell. It was partly why I still existed, of course. Because while she didn't realize her deadly desire for me, she had no right to live happily ever after with Jesse De Castrated. I'd be back to haunt her . . . I just had to make sure that she was still around to haunt, you know?  
  
Moulding into the archetypal evil one again, I stood right in front of Snow, looking down at her with disdain and superiority. I was going soft . . . Couldn't have that . . .  
  
'I'll be back,' I smirked down at her.  
  
She looked up at me with a scornful look. 'Whatever, Schwarzenegger.'  
  
Oh yeah . . . stupid Terminator . . . Go to hell.  
  
'Whatever,' I replied, and for effect, I shoved the couch so it slammed right against the wall with an echoing crash. Snow screamed.  
  
'What the hell is wrong with you?' she squealed.  
  
I shrugged coolly. 'I'm not around to help you,' I growled. 'I'm doing this because it's in my best interest for Suze to be alive.' For further effect, with the throw-rug that had been on the edge of the couch, I seized her and too slammed her against the wall. I still couldn't touch her as a ghost, but I could if I put something between us. I squeezed her shoulders viciously, feeling almost bad about this futile pain I was prompting. She gasped, and pleaded for me to stop.  
  
'Just a healthy reminder so you don't forget who's in charge,' I snarled in her face, shaking her abruptly. Snow shouted as her head bashed against the wall violently. I threw her down next to Suze, who was looking worse and worse by the second.  
  
There was an urgent knock on the door. Aaah, the meds at LAST. Suze was going to be okay . . . Doctors would fix her, even if it had been to late for them to dig a bullet out of my brain by the time they'd found me. Oh well, dwelling on the past was stupid.  
  
Unless, of course, you were a vengeance seeker. Then, it mattered a lot.  
  
'Be seeing you,' I said coldly.  
  
Snow stared at me as if I was crazy. 'I bloody well hope not . . . '  
  
Laughing malevolently, I dematerialized. I'd go see Suze in hospital . . . Remind her who was in control.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
Suze's POV  
  
'She needs a blood transfusion!'  
  
'What blood type is she?'  
  
'Group A negative, as far as we can tell. But this is unusual, Doctor. She seems have unknown antigens in her blood, that we've only seen before from few Egyptian people that have given blood. But A blood, no rhesus, should be adequate.'  
  
. . . These voices . . . They sounded very panicky. Quick, and loud. Urgent, even. What was going on?  
  
'Is cause for blood loss identified?'  
  
'No . . . she has no marks upon her body except her neck, but the wound is too small for her to have lost so much. Her friend wasn't giving any details, either.'  
  
. . . F-f-friend? Blood loss? My eyes fluttered open, and I was greeted by a sea of white. It was blinding!  
  
'Doctor! She's waking up!'  
  
'Well, anaesthetize her!'  
  
'Yes, Doctor . . . '  
  
. . . I felt something sharp being inserted in my shoulder, and a painful feeling of poison traveled around my body, deadening it. I felt very scared. What was happened? What was this blood loss deal? And where was I, God dammit?  
  
. . . But sleep claimed me, once again . . .  
  
~*~  
  
Someone was holding my hand.  
  
I didn't know who, or why, or how, but before reality or the memories could reach me, I just assumed it was who I wanted it to be so badly.  
  
'Jesse,' I breathed . . .  
  
The hand suddenly went very hard, and crushing. I gasped, and opened my eyes. There, I met the eyes of none other than a seething Paul Slater.  
  
'You still hung over that loser?' he glared intensely.  
  
I hiccuped, and looked around fearfully. I was in a hospital. Everything was very white, and it hurt my eyes. Everything, but Paul. Paul was jet black, from his black aura to his even blacker heart . . .  
  
I felt very enervated and shaky still, and didn't have the vigour to jump out of the bed and run screaming down the hospital corridors. Besides . . . that would be weird . . .  
  
'You are relentless,' I commented, feeling drained. Yet, I noticed with some gratification that I wasn't running so low on blood anymore. But I might as well have been . . . I felt that Paul, just in my presence, was sucking me dry all over again.  
  
Feeling numb with both anaesthetic and fear, I warned, 'Get out of here . . .'  
  
He smirked broadly, and leant in closer to my face. 'How about . . . no.' His hand rested on my hip, and I breathed in huskily.  
  
'You think I'm gonna go after just getting back? I'm a bit put out, Susie . . . you don't seem happy to see me. Didn't you miss me?'  
  
I was disgusted with him. 'Never,' I spat.  
  
He frowned sardonically. 'That's just too bad . . .' he leant in so his face was right beside my ear. 'Because I missed you.' With that, the hand on my hip shot up to my chin, and his pressed his lips against my mine. I squealed in alarm. 'Get off!' I stammered, as he violated my mouth. I could tell that I'd had a blood transfusion; it was pumping so painfully around my body, I was almost screaming!  
  
'I've yearned to do this,' he said breathlessly between a kiss. I took a very much so needed breath – it was okay for HIM. He was dead! He didn't need to breathe – and prepared to push myself away, but he returned to me, only with a kiss that wasn't so innocent, if the first one had been that at all.  
  
'P –Paul, what are you DOING?' I asked wildly, trying to shove him away, but he seized my wrists and jammed them above my head and out the way, continued to ravage my bruised lips. It hurt, with a pain that, once again, only Paul could make me feel. Pain of the spectral nature as well as any other. He was forceful, and was arousing a horror that I hoped to God I'd never undergo again. But since when does God do anything for me?  
  
I resisted with all my strength, trying to turn my face away. My head was pounding horribly, further proof that my blood had been restored. God, who needs blood if it hurts so much? I tried not to cry out – I didn't want some nurse to come in and think I was having a seizure. My heart was cracking under the pressure of this kiss, splitting me across the line of rampant lust and sheer terror.  
  
Do not respond . . . Do not give in . . . Do not give up . . .  
  
Never let him win.  
  
With a sudden burst of unforeseen strength, I managed to yank my hands from his, and elbow his face away. Cussing, he fell to the floor. And surprisingly, so did I. On the other side of the bed, thank goodness. I landed painfully, and clean ache spurted up my spine. I groaned, and carefully picked myself up, stumbling out of the little room. I guess I'd been in ICU. I turned my head, but I realized that Paul had gone. Ha. He was such an idiot . . .  
  
And I'm not?  
  
Okay, don't answer that.  
  
I sighed and walked back into the room, falling into my white bed. I knew Paul wouldn't show up for a little while. I don't know how, I just did. Feeling emotionally drained again – bouts of terror can do that to you – I closed my eyes and yet again, slept a dreamless sleep.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Like the chapter? I hope so.  
  
NOTE: Um, listen. I have a sequel for "Get Out Jesse And Never Come Back" just out, but only three lovely people have reviewed it. It's under the name "Devil At Heart," which is Katie's new account, so maybe that's why you didn't recognize. Katie was very discouraged at the little response. Please lift her spirits and review it! It's called "Power of Love" and it will be good if I can help it!  
  
And what did you think of the chapter?  
  
REVIEW!!!  
  
Regards, MystAngel.  
  
Love you all so much!!! 


	10. Control

YES! TOTALLY! THE HOLIDAYS!  
  
To celebrate, I'm going to write a lot more, (I hope.) I'm worried that I might be coming into a inspiration dry spell, so yeah. But what I did, I write a spell to summon a muse? Let's see if it works. Hehehe . . . I think that a lot of my chapters have been lacking that little bit of personality that I always try to put into my stories. They've become a little impersonal and distant, because that's how I've been feeling lately. Well, let's see how we go? And Jasmine? Yeah, I got the chapter title from your review. I hope you don't mind it seemed to fit. Amelia? NO this is not the end of the Addicted story. It's got a while to go yet. What do you think I'm going to do with Tad and his dad? Lol . . . but like you, Reunion was one of my favourites, and I'm DYING to write. Especially with the plot that I have planned, that only a few of you know about, muahahaha! Yeah . . . um, so here we go.  
  
Oh!  
  
### READ CAREFULLY ###  
  
Also, contrary to the belief, I AM still stuck on the plot. BUT not for this story. It seems a LOT of people have misunderstood me. It's very stressing, lol. I'm WRITING ANOTHER Jesse&Paul swap story, NOTHING to do with this one. I need your ideas on an IDEAL plot for a Mediator fanfic. NOT THIS ONE, a DIFFERENT one! Please don't misapprehend this, I'm desperate now. I'm dying to write the fanfic, and hardly anyone's written anything in reply.  
  
### Okay . . . ###  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Love Lolly.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
'Susie, honey . . . it's me. It's Mummy.'  
  
I blinked hazily. Huh? Mum's pretty, middle-aged face entered my vision. It seemed a long time since I'd seen it, some how.  
  
Mum saw me open my eyes. 'Oh, love,' she said thankfully. She ran her thumb repeatedly across my forehead, 'You gave me such a scare, you little brat.' But she said it with such love in her voice, I took no offense or anything.  
  
'Hello to you to,' I smiled at her grimly. I looked around. Oh yeah, the hospital. I felt the side of my neck. Two bumps. Damn, it wasn't a dream then.  
  
That meant something else, as well.  
  
Paul was back.  
  
'Susie? Why are you frowning? Do you want me to go get a nurse? She said –'  
  
'I'm fine,' I shook my head firmly. She sighed, a wobbly smile playing on her lips. Her eyes looked very anxious still. 'You gave everyone a big fright, Suze. Andy, me, Father Dominic, David, your little school friends, God, even Brad.'  
  
'Whoa,' I said.  
  
'Exactly,' she said in hushed tones. 'He'll crucify me for saying it, but he doesn't hate you as much as he pretends to. It's just a stepbrother thing.' She gave me a cynical look and then giggled. I smiled at her.  
  
Again, she sighed, shaking her head slowly. 'Oh, Suze . . . What happened here?' Her hand motioned to no where in general, just towards me.  
  
'I really don't remember,' I lied, looking at the vase of daisies that were mysteriously on the bench. 'Who are they from?'  
  
'Your friend Adam.'  
  
'Oh,' I said with disappointment. Of course they weren't from him, Suze. He doesn't even know you're here. He probably doesn't even care that you're here. Don't flatter yourself.  
  
'Suze,' she said, a look of shock on her face, 'Oh, my, I just remembered. A boy repeatedly rung you, and we had to tell him that we didn't know where you were. That was before we found out that you were here. He simply insisted on talking to you. His name was Jerry, or something.'  
  
My heart thudded. 'Jesse?' I asked squeakily.  
  
She smiled. 'Ah, that's the one. Who is he, Suze?'  
  
'No one,' I said bitterly, crossing my arms and snuggling deeper into the pillows. Her hand paused on my warm forehead. 'Susannah,' she said seriously, 'Who was he?'  
  
'No one,' I stressed, frowning at her. 'Just drop it.'  
  
'No,' she snapped, removing her hand from my face completely. 'Was he giving you trouble? Was he threatening you in some –'  
  
'Nothing like that,' I said in horror. Why I was horrified, I have no idea. But I was. It just seemed so un-Jesse-like to even contemplate him threatening a girl. He seemed to be noble towards all the lucky members of the female population, always wanting to be a gentleman–  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
OF COURSE!  
  
'Mum!' I cried, 'Get me a phone!'  
  
She looked alarmed. 'Susie, what? What on earth do you need a phone for?'  
  
'I need to make a phone call,' I replied urgently.  
  
'Well, I guessed THAT, I mean, I doubted you needed it to paint your nails,' she scowled, 'But who are you calling? That boy?'  
  
'Yes, okay? Please, get me one!'  
  
'Susannah, do you even know his number?' she asked angrily.  
  
I deflated a great deal. 'No,' I said in a small voice.  
  
Mum nodded curtly. 'I thought as much. So like you to rush into things. I really wish you would tell me more about this boy, Susannah. You haven't . . . '  
  
'Ew,' I said. 'God no. We went out. It was pretty short. I have mentioned him to you, Mum. Remember last week? I said I was going to dinner –'  
  
'With a friend,' she said, recalling perfectly. 'Not a "boy" friend. So don't try to squirm out of this. Why didn't you want me to know about him? He isn't . . . what Jake told me, is he? Because Susannah, I swear to God, if you are dating a boy who is in a mob, or has the slightest criminal record –'  
  
'Would you RELAX?' I half-shouted, twisting away from her. 'Jesse's as clean as a whistle.' Besides the fact that he kind of committed homicide, but we'll just, er, skip that little part. His intentions were good.  
  
I knew that now. So well . . .  
  
Oh God, what had I done? Why had I just assumed that he'd been so ready to cheat on me? Jesse was the kind of person who'd help anyone, (save Paul). This Querida Andres, she must have been some poor clueless mediator he found, and was training. And I'd just jumped to conclusions.  
  
Man, did I feel low.  
  
Oh God, smite thee now. Spare the world, why don't you?  
  
I sank into a heavy, steady guilt. Those horrible things I'd thought about Jesse, all those nasty things. They'd been misdirected. Unprovoked. I was a terrible human being! I'd treated him so badly, when all he'd been trying to do was explain! But, hey! What did he expect, popping out a line like, "I've met someone"? I mean, SERIOUSLY. You just DON'T say something like that to your girlfriend, and expect her to realize that you're training said someone in areas of mediation, without said girlfriend blowing her top. Right? Of COURSE I'm right! This was all his fault! If he hadn't have said such a stupid thing, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have gone to meet Tad, his dad wouldn't have went all Dracula on me, and Tad wouldn't have tried to finish off his evil doings. I mean, what a SUCKY father-son project? All Jesse's fault. Yeah, so screw him.  
  
Oh, I needed to talk to him!  
  
I'm such a loser . . .  
  
'Susie? Are you even listening to me?' Mum demanded.  
  
'No,' I said dreamily, too lost in my own sympathy to remember that my mother was giving me a lecture or mother/daughter communication, or something.  
  
~*~  
  
'Okay, Miss Ackerman, you look right to leave,' the nurse smiled at me.  
  
'Simon,' I said.  
  
'I'm sorry?'  
  
'My last name is Simon. Not Ackerman.'  
  
'Oh, I must have the wrong –'  
  
'No, you don't. My mum's last name is Ackerman. She remarried,' I explained boredly, sitting on my bed and swinging my legs.  
  
'I see . . . well, Miss Simon, you seem okay. We have given details to your mother about what to do if anything goes wrong, but it is a rare occasion that something does. You are a very lucky girl. We were worried that you wouldn't pull through; you lost a great deal of blood. But you're right now. I hope we don't see you back in here too soon,' she smiled, clutching a notebook, her wispy blond curls bouncing happily.  
  
'Right,' I said.  
  
After I was discharged from hospital, mum drove me home. She wasn't too happy with me, if truth be told, like I ASKED to be drained dry by a Transylvanian aspirant. Oh, yes, suck my blood, please. As IF.  
  
But she didn't know anything about Tad, and I wanted to keep it that way.  
  
Oh, didn't I.  
  
I finally got home, and went straight into the kitchen. Hey? I was hungry, okay?  
  
'Ah, and there she is,' Andy smiled, as he skillfully pulled a steaming oven dish out of the, ironically, oven. 'Fancy something to eat?'  
  
'Starved,' I said dully, plopping into a chair.  
  
I noticed he was watching me rather carefully.  
  
'What are you looking at?' I said with a wise guy smile.  
  
'Something I'd rather not be,' he shot back with a grin. I screwed up a bit of paper and threw it at him.  
  
It bounced off his arm as he shielded himself. 'That paper had something on it, you know. Something you might wanna take a look at.'  
  
I frowned. 'Huh?'  
  
He served me a plate of this creamy pasta, and returned my flimsy weapon to me. The steam of the food made my face very hot, and a little wet. I moved away from it, feeling slightly flustered, and smoothed the crumpled paper.  
  
It had a phone number on it. A very long one.  
  
It was Jesse's, from Spain.  
  
My breath ripped at my chest. I had to call him, he needed to know how sorry I was! He needed to know that I was wrong, and that I was the world's biggest loser, and primarily, that . . . that Paul was back.  
  
No, the most important thing he needed to know was that I loved him. That information was second to none.  
  
'Suze? You sane?' Andy queried.  
  
I shook myself out of my daze, and said in a slightly crackled voice, 'Um, y . . . yeah. Can I use the phone?'  
  
'Free country,' he shrugged. I nodded a little more than necessary, and grabbed the receiver very hastily, dialing the numbers. It felt very weird to be ringing Spain. I mean, a what if the person who picked up didn't understand me? What if they thought I was Chinese or someithing, or I was a terrorist, or a stalker, or –  
  
'Hello?'  
  
That familiar conceited tone sang richly over the line.  
  
'Hey, Cora,' I said coldly.  
  
She was silent for a moment. 'Oh, it's you.'  
  
'Yeah. Dramatic irony,' I said, 'That you answered. I need to talk to Jesse.'  
  
'He's –'  
  
'Right now,' I interrupted her.  
  
'-Not in,' she replied smugly, as if I hadn't spoken. 'Off with this girl he met. She's really nice, and she's one of those mediums also. She knows a lot more than you do,' she added nastily.  
  
I couldn't think of a spiteful reply quick enough, so she continued.  
  
'She's really pretty, and she wears her skirts the appropriate length for a lady. She listens to Jesse and minds her place, and she is NEVER rude to me. So you can pack your bags, Susie. She's so much prettier than you.'  
  
'Hey,' I snapped, 'Do I go around dissing you? Just because I think that you have a ferret face, I'd NEVER tell you.'  
  
'Oh!' she said, obscenely insulted, 'You – you . . . perra! Un burro sabe mas que tu!'  
  
I blinked. 'I'm so offended, Cora. Sticks and stones, dude. Especially if it's in Spanish. Your wit is wasted on me. I speak American, in case your memory has failed you again?'  
  
I could hear her dislike. 'You are a zorra,' she said. 'You need not know what it means, only that you are one. La caída! Vete al carajo! La –'  
  
That was when the phone was yanked away from her.  
  
'Susie!'  
  
It was Esmerelda. Aw, I really wanted to kiss her and pinch her at the same time for calling me that.  
  
'Hello, Esmerelda,' I smiled. Hey? I prefer this little one to "Heart" any day. What was it with stupid translations, anyway? Corazon = heart, Querida = dear. I mean, come ON. Did these Spanish mammas have non-existent IQs? Really . . .  
  
'Jesse says that you have nice legs,' she commented.  
  
Again, I blinked. 'Um . . . tell him he does to. Is he there at all?'  
  
'No,' she said sadly. 'I miss Jesse. He's funny. He laughs like a hyena.'  
  
'He does not,' I scowled, but kindly. Jesse had the sexiest, nicest, most lovable laugh ever. He sounded nothing like a hyena. 'I think you're confusing him with Cora.' What? I was being a bitch, so what? Cora topped that category.  
  
'So, he's not there?' I checked. 'Are you sure? It's very important I –'  
  
But the phone was yanked back from her.  
  
'Listen, you revoltosa,' Cora's rich voice spat into the phone, 'Get lost. Jesse is out of your reach. He in courting Querida now. She is more noble than you. He has no interest for a stupid little girl like you.'  
  
'Oh,' I said, 'Well, why has he called my like, eighteen times then?'  
  
'Because – he – uh . . . just go away!' she snapped.  
  
Ha. Gotcha, you brat.  
  
'Cora? Get your head out of your butt,' I said to her. 'It'll help with the head swelling, I promise you.'  
  
And I hung up.  
  
There's only so much cattiness a girl can take, after all.  
  
~*~  
  
While eating the now cooler bowl of pasta – cabonara, SO nice – Mum came to see me.  
  
'Susie,' she said, frowning, 'Oh, I feel terrible . . . '  
  
'Why?' I asked through a mouthful of starchy goodness.  
  
She tugged on the dark brown hair that I had inherited from her. 'Well, the WCAL needs me to do some shooting tonight. The boys are all out, and Andy's coming with me for the drive because my eyes aren't too good at the moment. I'm going to get them checked out at the optometrist on Fri . . . anyway, I have to leave you all by yourself,' she said guiltily. 'I feel terrible about it after what happened the other day, Susie. I don't want you to end up in hospital again. The nurse tld me that so many things could go wrong after this silly blood transfusion, like, it could have a nasty reaction with the blood that –'  
  
'Mum,' I cut her short, 'I'll be fine. It's okay, really.'  
  
She looked even more harassed. 'Oh, but Susie. I would feel so much better if you went over to CeeCee's or something,' she begged, grabbing hold of my hand.  
  
(A/N: I'm trying to keep a straight face while writing this. My brother is playing the song, "Rollin', rollin', rollin'' in the back round, complete with the whip cracks and stuff. And why does this guy singing the song call the cows "donkeys"? It's this huge mystery, I think. Was he on something? Hehehe . . . Trust me to break a mood.)  
  
I wrenched it away. My hand, I mean. 'Mum, I'm a big girl, much as you are forgetting. I can actually take care of myself.'  
  
She shot me a sarcastic look. 'Oh, and you weren't just discharged from hospital this morning after being attacked,' she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
'Mum!' I said, 'you rolled your eyes at me! What things are you picking up from Andy? I think that he has a bad influence on you, young lady. I don't want you seeing him anymore. Although, that could be a problem, seeing that you are kind of bound by holy matrimony and all that crap . . . '  
  
A smile broke out across her lips. She really was pretty. What went wrong with me? She had a genuine smile, a mumsy one, but real. It made you feel comfortable.  
  
'Oh, you . . . all right, you can stay on your own. But I swear to God, Susannah, if anything goes wrong, call . . . I don't know, Father Dominic or something. He seems like a responsible person. And he truly worries about you. Can't imagine why,' she mused, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.  
  
'Oh, thanks,' I blew a strand of hair out of my face.  
  
She laughed. 'I didn't mean it like that, sweetie. Just . . . ' she lowered her voice, 'be careful, honey. I like you alive.'  
  
It was my turn to roll the emeralds.  
  
~*~  
  
Mum and Andy were finally gone. Not that I particularly wanted them to leave. I kind of even went as far as staring wistfully as their car pulled out of the driveway. But no biggie. I'd live.  
  
I hoped.  
  
Ha, great attitude, Suze.  
  
I turned the TV on, and sat watching the Simpsons for about ten minutes, when the frigging power cut out! I couldn't' believe it! I totally went ballistic at the TV, and almost knocked it over, but managed to salvage it with a spectacularly adroit save. Andy would have my bones for toothpicks if I wrecked that old idiot's box. I groaned. Great. Just great!  
  
So that calling Father Dom if anything went wrong theory was shot. Mum had even taken her stupid mobile. My God, could this suck any more?  
  
Well . . . yeah, but let's forget about that . . .  
  
All was silent. Again. This seriously sucked, having to be a loner again. I kind of wished that I had invited CeeCee to stay the night. It would have been much better to know that I had company. But no . . . It didn't feel right.  
  
For the whole day, I'd been denying reality. But the quiet seemed to forbid charades any longer. I had to face up to the truth. That I'd made a mistake with Jesse. That Paul wasn't as far away as I would have liked him to be . . .  
  
But since when has my luck improved. The minute I walked in through the door, I heard it slam behind me loudly. I jumped, and spun around, eyeing everything suspiciously, but all scepticism was substituted with that fear that made my heart rate increase, and my mind go blank with dread.  
  
Paul stared at me coldly from where he stood. A chill sheathed me, like my blood had crystallized into cutting, glaciated shards of red ice. It pierced from beneath my skin.  
  
Okay, now I was REALLY wishing I'd invited CeeCee to stay the night.  
  
So that encounter in the hospital, it hadn't been a dream. How I'd been wishing that it had been one . . . That this wasn't real.  
  
Why did my life suddenly seem like some horribly nightmare? If I pinched myself, would I wake up? And what would I find if I did wake? A Carmel- residing Jesse who loved me, yet his family did not? Paul gone, still haunting me? These insecurities about myself? Either way, my life was no dream. There was no escape, no waking up. Paul enjoyed making this nightmare real. Making me feel the reality. The pain . . .  
  
'Well, well, well . . . looks like little Susie's alone again,' he said, cocking his head and leaning against the door coolly, his mouth open slightly in mirth. Why did there have to be a frigging POWER CUT? As if it wasn't creepy enough with the lights on? It was NOT fair, I tell you! You know? I really felt worthy to say that "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" thing. I know, it was a bit dramatic, but give me a break.  
  
(A/N: What? I am Catholic, and I it is Good Friday. So sue me?)  
  
Paul stayed where he was. And so he should have. I'm scary, too. I promise. I could really fuzz up his fur if he pissed me off enough.  
  
Grrr, argh . . .  
  
Oh, all right. I know, I suck.  
  
Yet the whole "staying away" thing wasn't panning out for him, you know? If the way he was taking those slow, definite steps towards me was any indication.  
  
'Stay away,' I advised him my abhorrence evident even in the darkness. 'Stay far away from me.'  
  
He stopped, and crossed his arms. 'Aw, but we've been through this, Susie –'  
  
'Suze,' I spat at him.  
  
'Suuuuuuuuuusie . . . '  
  
'Shut up!' I shouted at him.  
  
Despite the predictable absence of luminosity, I saw his lips pull in to a smirk. It taunted me. I shivered; my pumping, stabbing blood flow was cuttingly painful now. Did he know that he had this affect on me? That he subjected me to this pain every time he came into my presence? I would never tell him, he'd probably be fulfilled. Another Paul Slater achievement, you know?  
  
His mother must be so proud.  
  
Frankly, I was disgusted. With him, and with myself, for allowing him to disturb me so. Mess with my mind, and above all, with my heart . . .  
  
He took another step closer to me. 'Sit down,' he said.  
  
I stared at him. 'Hell no. I prefer to –'  
  
'Sit,' he snarled, his hands illuminating with this crackling black electricity orb! I freaked, and stumbled back onto my bed in alarm. Ghosts having BALLS OF ELECTRICITY? This was not on! No, never had I seen one of those! What was with this guy? Was he . . . more than just a ghost?  
  
I stared up at him in horror. What? I was horrified that he could conjure that black energy thing up, okay? Cut me some slack, it was a rude shock. I don't get spheres of voltage flashed in my face every day. And certainly not by a GHOST, who I assumed I knew so well . . .  
  
'Well,' he said in a cheerful voice, which had a dark edge that scythed me also, 'It has been a while since we've been in here, hasn't it?'  
  
'What do you mean? You were here yesterday,' I pointed out.  
  
'I wasn't. Not here, in your room. Our room,' he corrected himself. 'That little fiasco took place downstairs, if you don't recall.'  
  
'I don't.'  
  
'Hmm,' he smirked even more broadly. 'I remember everything. And I seem to remember especially, that I saved your life, Susie.'  
  
He WHAT?  
  
I stared at him, bamboozled. 'Yeah, whatever, cheese dick.'  
  
He twitched at the nickname, but chose wisely to ignore it. 'It's true,' he said. 'I saved you, Suze. You can't get out of it this time. You owe me.'  
  
'No I don't. It just makes up for when you tried to kill me,' I said simply. 'Well, almost.'  
  
His smile dropped like hot potato.  
  
'Excuse me? I think not,' he snarled, lashing out and shattering my mirror in anger.  
  
'My God,' I said, remaining calm. 'Do you know how quickly I go through those now because of you?'  
  
I mean, come on. Was he so intent on me never gazing upon my reflection?  
  
'So what do you want?' I said, cutting to the chase. I was mysteriously managing to suppress this fear. It was overwhelming me, but it still hurt like the fires of hell.  
  
Another step closer.  
  
'What is it always?' he asked.  
  
Another step.  
  
'Yeah, but that's kind of getting old. And if what you want is what I think you want, it's not yours for the taking.'  
  
'And whose is it?'  
  
'It?'  
  
'Yeah . . . it.'  
  
'Oh. Hypothetical, are we? Well, it doesn't have an owner. It is it's own owner. It isn't some slave. It isn't on your level,' I said snidely.  
  
I hadn't realized, of course, that Paul was standing right over me. It was very intimidating having him right above me like that. Looking down on me. As he always did.  
  
But I still knew that I was above him. And . . . he knew it too. That was why he tried to hard to stay in power, to control me.  
  
Oh my God, I never knew that before!  
  
. . . Where was the fear now?  
  
It had gone.  
  
I didn't feel afraid.  
  
Not anymore.  
  
I stood up angrily, I with a blazing anger that energized me, I really let him have it. There was no passion in this fight, it merely felt like I was proving a point. A bored little point, that I wasn't a damsel in distress. But as I went to punch him after repeatedly doing so, he seemed to find it necessary to cut me down to size again.  
  
If the way he twisted my arm, right behind my back stood for anything.  
  
I gasped. 'Shit! Let go, will you?'  
  
And the fear began filtering back in. The numbness left. Comprehension hit home.  
  
He really was in control, Suze.  
  
He pulled me very close against himself, my back to him. It was an abrupt movement, forceful and hurting. I rolled my neck gingerly, and felt his breath right beside my ears. Breath . . . he didn't deserve it. He was just a ghost . . . Wincing, I tried to pull away, but he was still so strong . . . Physically powerful.  
  
'Ah, Suze,' he hissed in my ear, 'Doesn't this seem familiar? Where have we done this before?'  
  
I stopped thrashing about. 'What do you mean?'  
  
'Obviously, I know,' he clued me in.  
  
I went very still. He knew. He knew about the dreams . . . he knew about the fear . . . the desire . . .  
  
NO!  
  
'Liar,' I sneered, and again tried to struggle away from him, but I don't think it'll ever really work.  
  
'I'm not lying.' I felt his chin rub against the side of my face, gently, and coldly. I shivered.  
  
He flexed his hands on my shoulders. And oh so inevitably, I was succumbing to the darkness . . . Just through the silence . . .  
  
'You're feeling it,' he whispered. 'I can feel it too . . . '  
  
Indeed I was. I was lost in the darkness, the evil, the sin . . . It was wrong, what was happening. I could feel my heart beating in time with my breath; both were impossibly fast, like I'd just run a marathon. No . . .  
  
This wasn't what I wanted.  
  
It was what Paul wanted.  
  
*And Paul Slater always gets what he wants . . . *  
  
No . . .  
  
Slow-burning passion washed over me in waves of acid rain. This was . . . wrong.  
  
NO! I'm STRONGER than this!  
  
I yanked myself away from him. 'No!' I cried, 'I won't let you do this to me! You can't just make me love you! All you feel is . . . is lust!' I cried, falling to the floor.  
  
Paul was over me like ants on a disposed candy bar.  
  
He dived down on me, and forced me to a lying position, making me face him.  
  
'I CAN though!' he said through gritted teeth. 'Don't tell me what I feel!'  
  
'You have no trouble telling me what I feel,' I retorted. 'You think you're the master of my emotions or something. Get a CLUE,' I shouted, and miraculously, was able to – seriously – kick him off! Suze is making progress, people!  
  
He crashed into my wardrobe in a shower of coat hangers. I took the opportunity to hightail it out of there –  
  
Okay, well, it was a good attempt, okay? I almost escaped, but noooo . . . Paul just can't take defeat graciously, can he? Oh, he had to go all out with the shoving-Suze-against-the-wall thing, didn't he? He held me there so forcefully with his body, I was beginning to lose sensation in my lower body. It was THAT bad. I kind of felt like I was going to collapse if he did move. That was worse.  
  
Which I probably was.  
  
'Why, why are you doing this?' I asked him in a conquered tone.  
  
'Because, it's what I want,' he replied, thrusting me even more vehemently against the wall. I cried out. 'And it's what you want, too . . .'  
  
'It's not –'  
  
'You don't know what you want, Suze. You've got these naïve ideas about our little friend De Silva, and seriously, what good is he going to do for you?' he demanded, jamming his hand against the wall, about a millimeter from where my head would have been if I hadn't have moved it.  
  
'Well, I dunno, he's ALIVE?' I spotlighted.  
  
That kind of did it. I guess you're not supposed to rub it into a dead guy that he's, well, dead. It really doesn't do. Oh, not at all.  
  
I think this point was proven when he threw me on my bed and started to rip my top off me. I screamed in protest . . .  
  
Point taken already!  
  
Paul's blue eyes were burning brightly above me.  
  
'Paul, DON'T!' I yelped. I screwed my face up, trying to hide in the darkness of my mind. No such luck. His eyes were scorched into my memory.  
  
Now the terror was full-blown, blinding! Overwhelming, murdering . . .  
  
I was still screaming shrilly. Alone . . .  
  
'PLEASE!'  
  
Revenge of the blue eyes. Oh, yes, revenge this was. He was hurting me, violating me . . .  
  
I felt like I was dying.  
  
And amid my shrieks of horror, the ripping of fabric, and Paul's passionate growling, and a stabbing pain that entered me suddenly, a shower of illumined blue glitter totally caught my attention. But I bet you it was a hallucination. Something I needed so desperately to see, in this time of despair, pain, terror . . .  
  
'Susannah!' Jesse yelled in horror.  
  
I just wished I were dead.  
  
Stop the pain, the mind games . . . I needed the real Jesse, not some image my mind projected.  
  
* "It's me that has the control, Susie . . . "*  
  
Dying.  
  
Death.  
  
. . . Dead.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
No, Paul isn't raping Suze. And NO, she's not dead. She's just feeling it. Suze it's WAY too dramatic, we know that. Look how she blew the whole Jesse/Querida thing out of proportion? And isn't Cora a bitch? Don't get all peeved with me, please. I hope it wasn't too much of a cliffie. I'm trying to tone them all down lately, due to the annoyed reviewers calling me evil. Hehehe . . . I try. But yeah, Chapter 11 should be up soon. HOLIDAYS! :: Does weird, life-mortifying dance ::  
  
Um . . . erase that from your memory . . .  
  
Regards, MystAngel.  
  
You guys ROCK! Katie is also really pleased with the reviews. I'm not so pleased with her, she's taking her sweet time giving me her ideas for the 2nd chapter for me to write it up. But yeah . . .  
  
What did you think of this chapter? REVIEW! Love ya! 


	11. So Wrong

HAPPY EASTER!!!!  
  
Hey, me again. Just wanna say there's one line of Spanish that is rated higher, so no need to translate it, okay? Lol. And there's a bit of Spanish cussing. No need to translate that either. Let it suffice that it's there.  
  
Please review? I stayed up till 2am to write this for you!  
  
Okay.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
Last time:  
  
'Susannah!' Jesse yelled in horror.  
  
Stop the pain, the mind games . . . I needed the real Jesse, not some image my mind projected.  
  
~*~  
  
. . . The second time my name rang out in that gallant Spanish cadence, I knew that I wasn't dreaming wistfully. I'd been ready to stop, in the name of the pain. I had had no further use for ersatz fantasies.  
  
Jesse . . . Jesse was real.  
  
'Susannah!' he cried for the third time, as he dived at Paul, rolling him off me. They both crashed to the floor, colliding with the ground so dynamically I feared fracture of the floorboards. Speedily, and with a breath I was struggling to catch, I grabbed a pillow from my bed and hid my chest from the both of them. Don't stress, he hadn't got that far in that area, but me parading my underwear to two males? Not my thing, you know?  
  
'I will KILL you!' Jesse was roaring at Paul, punching him powerfully in the head.  
  
'You already did,' replied Paul in a snarl, retaliating with equivalent potency.  
  
I couldn't get my head around it . . . Jesse was back. Jesse was here . . . Jesse was supposed to be in SPAIN! How was he here?!  
  
My mind was a whirlwind of dark mysteries, and my head was pounding so severely I was worried I'd pass out or something. Even my vision had gone dodgy. Jesse and Paul were a blur amidst the blackness, the flying of fists, and the cursing roars.  
  
My head swam dangerously . . . Oh, joy . . .  
  
I conked out.  
  
**************************************************************************** *****  
  
Jesse's POV.  
  
'Susannah!' I cried, as I materialized into a scandalous scenario. Paul was above mi amo, removing her clothes! I was appalled, and terrified at the same time. It was not just! But no . . . I was not merely these things.  
  
I was blatantly furious.  
  
Feeling my heart boiling with a rage direct from hell itself, I leapt at Paul, roaring. We tumbled away from Susannah, and I began striking him as if he was Satan himself. Although I did not doubt it.  
  
'I will KILL you!' I yelled in his face, holding him by that pathetic leather collar so my aim could be true.  
  
'You already did,' he growled at me, kneeing me in the stomach. I simply winced, and resumed his assault. He . . . he tried to hurt my Susannah . . .  
  
'What are you doing back here? You were told to stay away!' I cried furiously.  
  
'Since when do I do what I'm told?' he snapped back, and threw me off of him, quite strongly, too. I crashed against the wall. Instantly, Paul grabbed an umbrella from Susannah's wardrobe, and holding it evenly in his murderous hands, he shoved it under my chin, cutting off my breath.  
  
'What are YOU doing back,' he sneered at me, 'Didn't trust little Susie on her own? Thought she might have been messing around? With the real stuff?' he added, tossing his head arrogantly.  
  
'Never,' I spat, 'I trust Susannah with my life.' He pushed the umbrella further against my throat. I choked on a swallow, bringing my hands to his shoulders and heaving, but he lifted his arms and shrugged my hands off. Panting in desperation, I tried again, but the upshot was no different.  
  
'With your life?' he asked, a smirk emerging on that face of malevolence, 'Well looks like your life is over, Jesse-boy. Suze has been playing around with a certain gentleman named Thaddeus Beaumont. Ask her yourSELF.'  
  
Of "self", he struck me in the gut. I wheezed, and bowed my head in pain. Damn it, it hurt. 'Besa mi culo,' I scowled venomously. He laughed at me, but I noticed he stopped as my fist collided with his jaw. He stumbled back, and tripped right over something very odd on the floor that I had not noticed before.  
  
Oh . . . oh my . . .  
  
For a moment, our raging battle seemed to be forgotten, in our confusion.  
  
'Nombre di Dios . . . what is that?' I asked, mystified.  
  
'I think it's a cat,' Paul grunted, goggling at the corpulent, unruly looking feline, as I was.  
  
But Paul was quick to forget the cat. He kicked my in the shins, and I sank to my knees in shock. He flipped off his back and onto his feet with a skill matched by my own.  
  
'You want the party tricks?' I asked coldly, standing up again.  
  
His lip quivered in rage.  
  
'Bring it on . . . '  
  
And so I did.  
  
It was a heated brawl. Never, had Paul and I fought with this intensity in our training. His grandfather had taught us well, equally. We corresponded each other's dexterity and agility to exactness. I seized him by the neck, and hoisted him up in the air, my hand constricting dangerously.  
  
'What are you trying to do, Jesse?' he asked. It was barely understandable, seeing as his throat was rather squashed, but I fathomed his query nevertheless.  
  
I glared at him. His eyes. They were like the strongest rocks. Never diamonds, though. Paul's, they were unpenetrable, and hard. And endlessly cold . . .  
  
'I cannot kill you,' I said in a voice of blindly calm rage, shaking him more viciously than necessary. 'But I'll be damned if you get away with what you almost did just now . . .'  
  
'Be damned then,' he snarled, and kicked his foot right up against my sternum, executing a perfect backflip and landing, catlike, on his feet.  
  
Although I doubt that obese orange cat would be able to do so with the same ease.  
  
Paul walked slowly up to me, standing tall, proud, cool, yet with the burden of death on his shoulders. It was a vibe that no one could avoid – it pummeled you right in the gut.  
  
Especially me, knowing I killed the bastardo.  
  
I backed away from him, toward the window. Not in fear. Never in fear of Paul Slater . . .  
  
I didn't know how I wasn't being affected by his attempted assault of my Susannah. It seemed like that impact was being strangely delayed.  
  
But then . . . oh, did it hit me hard.  
  
HE'D TRIED TO KILL HER!  
  
With a typhoon of adrenaline, I released a roar strong enough to wake the dead, if I already knew that they did not sleep. I was consumed, yet again, by a rage that I'd only been victim of once – on our first date, Susannah and I. It ripped me apart to contain it within myself, and I just needed to let – it – GO!  
  
HE'D TRIED TO HURT HER!  
  
'Oi, Jesse,' he said snidely, flexing his hands, 'I learnt a little Spanish . . . (Rated higher) Tu puta querida me la chupa!'  
  
I gasped.  
  
THAT MALPARIDA!  
  
NO ONE INSULTS SUSANNAH LIKE THAT!  
  
Paul then leapt at me.  
  
With legerdemain I was superbly satisfied with, at the last possible moment, I seized him by his leather jacket, rolled on my back, shoved my foot in his stomach, and kicked him – upside down – through Susannah's window, my foot acting like a catapult. His yell got further away as I waited for him to hit the ground.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
I jerked up, and glared out the window accusingly, and saw the last twinkle of his dematerialization.  
  
DAMN HIM! Maldito sea!  
  
I stood up, and again, emitted a deafening holler of fury. That pajúo! That asqueroso! I felt so mad that he was already dead . . . I wanted to kill him again! I wanted to bring him back to life, just so I could have the contentment of taking it away again!  
  
I punched out the last shard of glass in Susannah's poorly treated window, in my ire . . .  
  
And then sank to the floor, feeling corrupt.  
  
. . . What had Paul reduced me too? Was I on his level of integrity now? Had I none? I wanted him dead, again. It was wrong to contemplate these grave thoughts. They were sinful . . . I was sinning against God, thinking these things.  
  
Thou shall not kill.  
  
Thou shall not steal.  
  
I had killed.  
  
And I wanted to steal his life again.  
  
And it was a Sunday! So "Observe the Sabbath, and keep it holy" had also flown out the window.  
  
Like Paul had. Well, technically, he'd been kicked out.  
  
Okay, consider me . . . It had been droll, it must be admitted. But, the rage, that had not been.  
  
I felt like a monster . . .  
  
'Jesse? Is that really . . . it's not you, is it?'  
  
I froze, as that velvet voice blanketed me, warmed my heart, purified my mind, lifted my soul . . . with love.  
  
Susannah . . .  
  
I climbed to my feet, clinging to my remaining honour, and ran to her side. A mere pillow masked her chest. I blushed rather deeply, and swallowed. What had Paul done . . . had he . . .  
  
'Jesse?'  
  
I shook myself from my thoughts, and sat beside her, stroking her face gently. Oh, how long it had been since I had gazed upon this face of ultimate purity? This innocence? This beauty? Her jade eyes were half closed, but the magnificently meticulous irises were fixated on me. My own eyes were riveted to hers, locked in a gaze that I did not want to leave.  
  
'Querida . . . '  
  
Too long, had it been, since I had uttered that word with the love, and the passion, that I did then. I felt the celestial altitude that was so common when I spoke to her, merely looked at her. She smiled ever so slightly, and sat up a little, still clutching that pillow to her chest.  
  
An awfully impure thought flashed in my mind, and I chose very steadfastly to ignore its fleeting presence.  
  
Oh, Jesse . . . there is no hope for you . . .  
  
'Susannah,' I said, 'Are you all right?'  
  
Her eyebrows lowered into a grimace, and, ignoring my question, she proceeded to babble. I managed to catch fragments of the sentence. I was getting quite skilled at it. 'Jesse! I'm . . . sorry . . . idiot! I should . . . death, because . . . suck. I . . . Cora answered . . . what is her ordeal? She . . . Esmerelda . . . nice legs? You noticed . . . I mean, you too, but . . . Paul . . . scared me . . . tried . . . I –'  
  
I just couldn't keep up any more. I'm sorry. I wasn't THAT adept.  
  
'Susannah,' I said, biting back a grin in spite of myself, 'Please, slow down.' I stood up, walked to her wardrobe, and withdrew a decent looking shirt, that was pretty in its own right, but would serve the purpose of returning Susannah back her dignity.  
  
'Thanks,' she muttered, and snatched it from me. I turned around respectfully. 'Done,' she squeaked adorably. I returned to her side slowly, and picked up her hand in mine, thumbing it lightly. I saw her sigh very softly, and smiled accordingly. But she wouldn't look at me . . .  
  
~*~ Suze's POV.  
  
'Jesse,' I said, suddenly serious. I straightened up. I still couldn't believe after so long, he was here . . . I was on the verge of either throwing my arms around his neck and initiating a heavy make-out session, or slapping him silly. 'What is with you?'  
  
He looked pretty shocked. So much so that he stopped running his thumb over my hand.  
  
Damn.  
  
I'm not known for tact . . .  
  
'Susannah?' he asked uncertainly, 'Uh . . . what do you mean?'  
  
'How did you get here?' I pressed on, tugging my hand from his entirely. He looked a little put out by its removal, but focused his thoughts on my question.  
  
'I . . . I heard your cry, all the way from Spain, Susannah. Just tonight. It was so strong,' he said, frowning. He stared at his hand. It was stiff, as if it were still holding mine. His voice sounded far away, somehow. 'Deafening. You screamed, "PLEASE!" and all I could here in my mind, was your voice. It hurt . . . I tried dematerializing, but it didn't work. But when I heard a final shriek, one that denoted that you intended to give up, I felt literally scared. Past that, even,' he said evenly, his sexy Spanish voice caressing me. 'Emotions can work to the advantage of a shifter. So it seems, Paul uses his rage, and his hatred, to channel his power. Ghosts are affected by this, also, obviously. I, Susannah, use my love.'  
  
He stared at me eloquently.  
  
What? So what if I didn't get it?  
  
'Love?' I frowned, 'For what?'  
  
His smile broadened. He must have been thinking, "My girlfriend is so thick . . . "'For you, Susannah.'  
  
Oh. So that answered my next question. But for closure, I asked it anyway. 'We're still going out, aren't we?'  
  
He looked perturbed. 'Why, of course. Why would you think otherwise?'  
  
I shifted uncomfortably, and edged slightly away. 'Well, uh, this Querida Andres thing. You didn't really break it to me very well, Jesse.'  
  
Jesse shrugged sheepishly. 'Well, I'm not best for discretion, Susannah.'  
  
I rolled my eyes, and hugged my knees to my now fully clothed chest, thank you. 'Don't I know it.'  
  
But hang on. How easy was he getting off this? 'Jesse, you can't just expect me to just forget –'  
  
But oh so traditionally, my little rampage was cut short by his hand swooping up to the side of my face, and those lips pressing against mine. I alleviated, my knees relaxing, as his other hand came to my shoulder bringing me closer into him.  
  
He kind of crawled over me, pushing me back into my pillow with his lips. I could feel the fire behind him, the fervour. It was nothing like being kissed by Paul. This was soooooo much better.  
  
So not complaining here . . .  
  
God, I'd forgotten how HOT Jesse was.  
  
How great a kisser he was.  
  
How inky his onyx eyes were, like a pair of twilight skies.  
  
. . . And most of all, how madly I was in love with him.  
  
Ironically? He was so forgiven.  
  
Unfortunately, I didn't see that ghostly face lurking just by my window . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ************  
  
Paul's POV  
  
He – but – SCREW HIM!  
  
Suze was all over him! He just got back from frigging SPAIN, and they were snogging like the world relied on their little lip-lock session. It was disgusting. He was winning in this game . . . I couldn't HAVE it!  
  
It just wasn't FAIR! I'd seen Suze first! I'd given her her first bloody KISS, God dammit! And what did I have to show for my efforts?  
  
I fricken broken window, and a sore ass, THAT was what.  
  
After all that time I'd spent, developing my ethereal powers, haunting her dreams, whispering cryptic messages to her, seducing her, wanting her, she did this to me! And she thought she could just get AWAY with it? It was WRONG. She couldn't treat people like this! It was cruel, and perverse, and WRONG!  
  
Granted, those three words summarize me perfectly, but let's not get catty.  
  
I couldn't watch anymore.  
  
I materialized away, to the graveyard. I rarely went there anymore. It was too depressing, knowing that beneath a heap of carved rock, corpses sat, decaying, wasting away from existence.  
  
I was one of those corpses.  
  
Soon, would I disappear completely from this earth?  
  
I knew the answer.  
  
Isn't it everyone's dream, to leave something on the earth, before they die? Something for the world to remember them by. Something that would be admired, remembered, respected?  
  
Well, I didn't have that much time.  
  
You watch, I could have been great. I could have gone places. I was going to be a lawyer, preferably, or a doctor. That was when I was younger. As I grew older, apart from DeCapitated, I began to realize that no occupation would satiate my need. My mission, my passion. I was unlike any other boy. I did not want to be remembered for saving a life, doing a good deed, writing a novel.  
  
Hell no.  
  
I wanted to be feared.  
  
My passion was pain. I relished it in the greatest measures, the ultimate agony. Watching others suffer . . . I remembered how I'd enjoyed watching my little brother Jack fight off his own ghosts as a kid. Stupid little dork. Shouldn't have been given the job as a medium in the first place.  
  
I already know that I'm sick. But you want to know something? I don't give a shit about what other people think.  
  
That was until Suze came.  
  
It seemed, every second I spend was to think of ways to win her. To please her. To gain her favour. To make her bloody love me, as I loved her. She didn't understand how I was. My love wasn't some pathetic little heart flutter, the shit that De Silva felt. No, this was real. It hurt. It made me die, over and over and over again. As if one death wasn't fricken enough, I had to endure it every time she looked away from me. Every time she rejected me, turned away.  
  
And her screams were starting to cut me, now. They didn't amuse me. They locked me in alternate dimensions of enchantment, fatal attraction, unrequited love.  
  
She claimed this was just lust. I'll give her lust . . . she could take her lust and shove it. This stuff was real. It was there, and we both bloody felt it. I still feel it every second of every minute of every hour. Every day of my existence. It never tired me, but it wore me out in a very different way. My patience was deteriorating, though. It was only so long before I snapped.  
  
Ha, you think tonight was a "snap"? As if. That was fairy floss compared to what it was like when I lost control. When I ceased to function. It was like I was demonically possessed. It scared even me. And I don't scare. At all.  
  
There was a demon inside me . . . It was the part of me that wanted her dead, all to myself. The other half wanted her alive, for the power she had. The power that I could never feel again.  
  
Because I was dead.  
  
You know, as a ghost, you never really realize you're dead until you remember what others still have and you don't. Let me tell you, it ACHES. There's nothing that hurts more than bearing this cross. Cross of death.  
  
I'm dead. La, la, la. Run. I'm a walking corpse, here to smite you. Oooh, I'm scary.  
  
I only wish I still were.  
  
These feeble excuses for power were nothing. I could still materialize when I was a shifter. I could still move things with my mind, though not as capably as De Silva, regrettably. Stupid bull fighter. Why couldn't he stay in Spain permanently. He fricken ruined EVERYTHING.  
  
I'd been this close . . . this close to having Suze. And I don't mean a little tempting kiss, or an enigmatic whisper in her ear.  
  
No, I mean the big noise. The deed.  
  
Part of me didn't care if she was unresponsive, if she was screaming. If I forced it from her. She teased me in a way that was too vindictive to justify with words. I knew . . . Actions spoke louder than words. Actions could be so strident.  
  
De Silva's little pistol shindig had been a jolly great shout in my ear.  
  
Suze should have known better than to mess with me . . . I could snap her like a twig. My mind was clay in my hands. I could warp her to my will, twist her until she screamed into the night. Make her go insaaaaaaaaaane.  
  
Like she did to me.  
  
Little bitch that she was . . .  
  
All I wanted was to run my hands down that immaculate body, breathe life into her lungs, kiss her with fire hotter than that of hell, have her to myself. Taste her . . . Toss with her in the darkness of the night, net my fingers in those brunette curls, lose myself in those emerald eyes, have control over her. Possess her . . . Know that she knew she had lost the fight. Force her to admit that she had been wrong, that I would win her in the end. Keep her forever.  
  
FOREVER.  
  
She was mine. Mine from the very start of this whole mess. This mess of the mind, of the heart, of the soul. Or lack of, on my part.  
  
She always acted so fricken proud!  
  
Well, like always, I was going to get the last laugh. Screw this "saving" act I'd been about to pull, with that demon after the shifters. Suze could burn in hell, for all I cared. I'd meet up with her soon enough down there . . . Better yet, I wanted to be the one to give her to the demon. I wanted to see her face when she found out that no one was going to help her this time. That Jesse couldn't rescue her anymore. No, my demon friend was far too efficient to have a little Hero-wannabe dashing around, saving his prey. God, give De Silva half the chance, he'd jump into Purgatory and rescue all the ghosts I sent up there. If I ever told him how many I exorcised . . . Oooh, he'd flip his lid, big time.  
  
I wanted to tell him exactly whom I exorcised, too. See if the name Miguel De Silva meant anything to him, hmm?  
  
You bet it did.  
  
I glared up at the sky. Bloody astral shit, what did it stand for? My dad always said that when people died, they became stars. This was going back over a decade, by the way. Well, he had a vein connected to his anus, because he talked more shit than his butt did, the idiot. I couldn't want to kill him off. If he gave me a reason, God help him.  
  
Actually no. Why should God help him? He did God no favours. He helped bring me into this world.  
  
And mum . . . she was too busy with her own life to realize that she had two sons. Poor pathetic Jack was the head case, and sometimes, you could so tell, she just would have preferred not having a little midget kid. He really was a wretched little toerag. Didn't deserve to no the fine knowledge of shifting.  
  
Wait, no. The nose-picker was only a medium.  
  
Ha to him. Hope the ghosts off him into oblivion too.  
  
And old Pops. Now there's a guy you want on your side in World War 3. He knew how to handle his power. He taught me everything I knew. Everything Jesse knew. How long he'd been around, I didn't know. But it had been a while. He'd seen a lot. He was old for his time. He deserved to go.  
  
But he wouldn't let go of life. He clung to it like a branch on the cliff- face.  
  
He knew exactly what was waiting for him, that's why.  
  
It wasn't pretty.  
  
That's what was waiting for me, too. A torture like no other. I knew it, Pops knew it, God knew it. But Suze didn't. And neither did Jesse. They knew nothing of hell . . . I knew it all. Especially hell on earth.  
  
I lived there.  
  
I wandered aimlessly on the paths of the cemetery, until I reached my tombstone. I glared at it. The stone was marble. The finest.  
  
"Paul Oliver Slater.  
  
Born 1985, died 2003. Son, brother, grandson."  
  
That was it.  
  
No "Beloved son, dearly missed brother, gorgeous grandson" for Paulie. I was a badass and they knew it.  
  
That word kept me standing there.  
  
"Died."  
  
It echoed in my mind ruthlessly, mercilessly. It tormented me.  
  
Died, died, died, died, died, died . . .  
  
Try saying that three times fast. What do you end up with?  
  
"Die, die, die."  
  
My motto.  
  
Soon, Suze. Soon it will all be over . . . Soon you'll be mine. Not in the cute Valentine sense, either honey. We're talking the big leagues. And Jesse De Wanker won't bother us, ever again. Not where he's gonna end up.  
  
That place ain't pretty, either.  
  
I stopped dead, as hatred towards my family surged through me. It almost forced me to the ground, but I was strong. Damn, I was the strongest! In my turbulence, I seized a boulder that sat artlessly near my grave, and smashed it on my marble headstone.  
  
Pay for that, why don't you, you prick!?  
  
Panting – yes, breathing. Ghosts can still do that, they just don't need to – I slumped down. I felt drained.  
  
I knew that what I had done to Suze had been wrong.  
  
But I was wrong.  
  
Always wrong.  
  
A sin . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Whoa, that monologue freaked me out. You? Actually, I liked it. It was aggressive, no? What did you think?  
  
Regards, MystAngel. 


	12. Slaughter

A character dies in this chapter. Cry me a river. Lol, nah.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
Suze's POV.  
  
I didn't know what to say. It was like, I'd been asleep all this time, in this horrible nightmare, and now that Jesse was back, the puzzle pieces just fell back into place. He'd filled this emptiness that I'd been enduring, without even knowing it was there. He'd made everything very real again, and it was a reality that I knew I could now deal with, with him here.  
  
'Dios . . . how I've missed you, Susannah,' he panted, lifting himself off of me, and sitting back, running a hand through that opulent head of thick, dark Latino hair. I sat up, feeling very feathery, fluffy. We both stood up, and walked to opposite sides of my room. We both knew that we needed to get some things straight before we went all makey-outy with each other. With the lips, and stuff. You know?  
  
Shows how strong we are.  
  
Within about five seconds, maybe four, we were in each other's arms again, kissing ardently. He gripped my back, and I pulled at his arms as we were fused together by this passion. It was very overwhelming, after what had just happened with Paul and stuff. I mean, WHOA. I was freaked out by the whole thing, okay?  
  
But Jesse had a very good method of, you know, making me not so freaked out.  
  
Tonguey, but effective.  
  
. . . Okay . . .  
  
. . . Even I know that that was gross. I'm sorry. I will keep my kissing details to myself.  
  
But it's just so amazing!  
  
Being kissed by Jesse I mean. Not grossness.  
  
Our noses kept squashing together – in this totally cute, romantic way, mind – as we made up for all the lost time. His head was bowed down to meet me, me being a short ass and all compared to his tall architecture.  
  
But me is single-minded, and dedicated. Yes, me good.  
  
Oh, shut up . . .  
  
With every working brain cell that I still had, I shoved Jesse away, struggling to breathe. What was I doing, hindering this little mind-blowing episode with this . . . this god?  
  
Because that's what he was. I am serious. Try to envision here . . . A tall, dark, handsome man, with the most perfect black liquidy eyes, the ideal fashion sense – no New Jersey silken tees for my Jesse – firm washboard abs hidden beneath stylish manly tops – unfortunately – and those magical eyes that transported you to a world where nothing was wrong, and everything was so incredibly right . . . Ha, long sentence, I know. So sue me? My boyfriend is virtuous.  
  
Hang on . . .  
  
'Are we still going out?' I asked in a very small voice, breaking away from him. He looked down at me with reckless, invigorated eyes.  
  
'Why, of course. I really must apologize for my way of going about that whole Querida thing, Susannah. It was extremely foolish of me to break it to you like that,' he said, and went to continue with the make out stuff, but I put my finger on his lips. I felt his muscles tense.  
  
'Break it to me?' I asked uncertainly. Just the way he said it. Like, I dunno, there was something that had to be told to me very carefully in the first place. "Break" it to me?  
  
His brow furrowed, and his mouth tugged into a small smile. Again, the how- did-I-end-up-with-such-a-ditz-for-a-girlfriend smile, I'll bet. Joy of joys . . .  
  
'Susannah,' he said patiently, 'See here . . . ' He let out a sigh, and broke away from me for a second, his hands sliding down my arms pleasantly. My skin went, you know, all tingly and stuff. All goosebumpy, yeah? But I focused on Jesse again, because he was doing something . . . weird.  
  
Jesse was digging his hand down the neck of his shirt. Um . . . huh? I mean, it was totally something I wouldn't mind doing, but yeah. Still, it was a bit odd.  
  
But I stopped feeling so freaked when his hand resurfaced a split second later, clutching something in his hand, that was attached to a brown leather string around his neck. With an easy tug, the cord untied, and he pressed the object into my hands. It was rutted and warm. Like him, if you take those abs into account – sorry. But yeah, I stared at it.  
  
It was a pendant of some kind. It was truly beautiful, about two inches long, and solid gold, but with an antique, rusted effect over it. It was triangular in shape with dark gold embossed symbols across the bottom side. There were five symbols, the first was like a paintbrush or something, the second was a falcon, the third an eagle, the fourth another falcon, and the fifth was this horizontal zigzag. Where had I seen these before?  
  
I tried straining my brain, but it hurt too much. Giving up the whirlwind of thoughts, I surrendered to my ignorance.  
  
'What is it?' I asked in calm frustration. 'What does it say? What are those symbols?' I gently skimmed the markings with my finger. The precious metal was quickly turning cold. The cord dangled loosely from the little loop at the apex of the triangle.  
  
'Those symbols,' Jesse respired, his head very close to mine as he stared – wistfully? – at the pendant thingie, 'Are hieroglyphics, Susannah. They –'  
  
'Oh yeah,' the concept dawned on me. I'd so seen them in History class, duh! 'What do they say?'  
  
His smile twitched ever so slightly. 'I was getting to that,' he grinned. 'The hieroglyphs say, "SHAMAN." Do you know what a shaman is, Susannah?'  
  
'Uh, maybe in my last life when I was Einstein,' I said sarcastically.  
  
Jesse looked confused. 'But Einstein would not necessarily know this, Susannah. He was a mathematician. Specifically, a –'  
  
'Okay, yeah, we got it, you memorized the guy's bio. So, what's a She-man?'  
  
'A shaman,' he stressed, his teeth gritted slightly. His fingers touched mine as he, too, touched the markings upon the pendent. 'Shamans came from ancient Egypt. There, it was one acting as a medium between the visible and spirit worlds. There were also practices for sorcery of healing or divination. It was a very religious custom. Only these shamans, in the Ancient Egyptian world, above all others, had the gift of being able to see, feel and converse with the dead. Ghosts, spirits.' He looked at me eloquently. 'Are you seeing how this relates to you?'  
  
I nodded dumbly. 'Er, yeah.'  
  
He continued. 'Yet there was a whole other level of shamans, Susannah. These were people with the power to not only communicate with spirits, but actually cross over to the spirit world itself.'  
  
'The Shadowland,' I breathed in wonder.  
  
'Yes,' Jesse said. He looked very strange. 'You have learnt that you are not a medium, but a shifter, which is the closest translation that . . . anyhow. This – ' he stopped, and took my hand more tightly, pulling me a little closer to him. 'This was given to me when I was very young, by my . . . mentor, you may say. You need not know whom. It signifies that I am a shifter, and a powerful one, it seems. I have never taken it off since the day that it was entrusted to me. It would be my most valuable possession, Susannah.'  
  
'Would be?'  
  
He swallowed. 'Yes, would be, if you were not apart of my life.'  
  
I went very still. What? What was he saying? That I'm better than his cool Egyptian necklace? Oh my God! That was so sweet!  
  
I beamed at him, feeling very chuffed with myself.  
  
Suze: 1. Necklace: 0 .  
  
So suck!  
  
'Susannah,' he said, his voice very serious again. His breath was ragged, and his eyes were searching me, my soul. 'I have never been in love like this before. It's a unique feeling, and it is very powerful also. I feel dead when you are not by me. You have this hold over me and I never want you to let go. I love you more than . . . than anything that I have ever known. I say these words, not to appear worthy of you, but simply because there are no truer words to escape my lips.'  
  
I was rapt by these words that bound me in an enthralling spell. These words he was saying, it was like poetry of the heart. I just stared at him in awe. What did I ever do to deserve such blessed revelations? I think my mouth was kind of open in my shock at hearing what I had, but I didn't really care. I was so moved. I could feel my heart physically speeding up, and my face getting very hot.  
  
It was wonderful.  
  
'That was the most – ' I choked on the word. Yeah, me choked up? Not good. But this, this was a totally good choked up. Even if it didn't sound too attractive. I took a breath, which was unpredictably convulsive. ' – The most beautiful thing that anyone – ANYONE, has ever said to me, Jesse. Ever.'  
  
He smiled down on me. 'I will never stop loving you, Susannah Simon. Mi amo . . . I'm giving you this because it means so much to me.' He slid the leather stringed necklace over my head, his knuckle brushing my cheek in this total provocative way. '. . . Because you mean so much to me,' he whispered into my ear.  
  
I was too stunned too speak. I stuttered some incoherent words four a few seconds, but then realized the futility of it, seeing that my brain wasn't registering as fast as my heart was. I threw my arms around his neck, and pulled him into the deepest kiss that I have ever experienced. He was electrifying on my lips, and I felt passion like no other.  
  
I loved Jesse.  
  
He loved me.  
  
Everything else wrong in my life? Piss off.  
  
~*~  
  
Jesse had explained to me that it would be extremely difficult for him to dematerialize back to Spain without the same motive as he had before. He told me, in fact, that it was impossible for him to do. His family, apparently, knew that he'd gone – he'd told him that his duty as a shifter was needed elsewhere, indefinitely. So they were fine about it. Well, they didn't know where he was specifically, or who he was helping, but yeah. Screw Cora, who cared what she thought anyway, huh?  
  
'Where are you going to stay?' I asked him worriedly.  
  
'My house?' he suggested with a "duh" smile.  
  
'Oh yeah . . . but Jesse, there's no one there! What if some crazed guy comes in the middle of the night with an axe, and chases you and then locks the doors, so you can't escape! What if –'  
  
But he started laughing, which made me pretty pissed. I mean, here I was worried about his well being, and he laughed at my concern? Not good.  
  
'Fine,' I snapped, 'Get decapitate. See if I care.'  
  
'I should think that you would,' he said dryly. 'That was almost three quarters of an hour of kissing, Susannah.'  
  
I went very red.  
  
'Um, yeah . . . ' I muttered. 'But how are you going to get to your house, Jesse? Mum's taken her car, and anyway, I so don't want you driving. There are so many people who speed at this time of night! You could get knocked off the cliff at the hairpin curves at the Point, you know? Where some people go to park on a –'  
  
'Susannah,' he broke in, looking absurdly amused. He put one hand in his pocket, smiling. 'I'm getting the distinct impression you do not want me to leave. Are these feelings out of line? Or is there a genuine vibe that I'm getting from you?'  
  
'Not sayin' a word,' I said in a sing-song voice, flexing my hands playfully.  
  
'Susannah,' he warned, 'It would be . . . crude . . . for me to stay with you. I am, well, I don't –' he stumbled on his words. Even in the darkness of the power failure, I could see his embarrassment.  
  
'God, will you relax? I'm so not that type of person,' I said, although I have to admit I was ogling that visibly defined six-pack very furtively. I am such a hypocrite. 'But yeah. Could you just go out while I get into some pajamas?'  
  
He nodded hard, and left, kind of tripping over his own feet on the way out. Not my Jesse, but hey. At least he was "my" Jesse again, ha.  
  
And being a further hypocrite – well not exactly, I didn't exactly preach anything to him, right? – I flopped on my bed, completely blissful. Jesse . . . said the 'L" word. Lots of times! Oh, people, this was GOOD. Shit, this was better than good, it was – well, it was VERY GOOD.  
  
Oh cut the crap Suze, this was one of the SINGLE GREATEST MOMENTS OF YOU LIFE!  
  
Jesse loved me! I had a little triangle necklace to prove it! YAY!  
  
I think that I kind of squealed out loud then, doing this extremely mortifying dance that made me curse the day video cameras were invented, just for giving me a bad feeling that someone might have recorded it. Now THAT would have been embarrassing.  
  
In a BIG way.  
  
And Jesse would probably dump me for being such a loser.  
  
Ha. He couldn't. He would "never stop loving me." It's one thing for me to be a hypocrite, but for Jesse, it's like, punishable by crucifixion or something.  
  
It was just as I was sliding into a pair of silky boxer-shorts – having put a little pink tank top on already – and I opened the door of the bathroom, that I saw.  
  
'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!! JESSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEE!!' I screamed in horror, falling back. Still screaming.  
  
Jesse came bursting into my room, panting. 'Susannah! What is wrong?'  
  
With a trembling hand, I pointed to . . . oh, gross . . .  
  
Jesse's face drained from all colour. 'Dios . . . '  
  
'Look what he wrote,' I said in a very inaudible voice. Across the wall stretched the words "No more games, you bitch."  
  
In blood.  
  
Whose blood?  
  
Ew . . .  
  
Suddenly feeling VERY angry, I yanked the axe out of the wall. Yes, the axe.  
  
The one that was fixing Spike there.  
  
The cat.  
  
I knew that I was shaking. I really was. The axe slipped from my fingers, into the bath . . . Spike, that stupid freak of a cat, was dead. And all I could think was, "Timothy's NEVER going to live this down." I guess I was freaking out. There had been a slaughtered cat axed to my bathroom wall. A bloody message was dripping down the white plaster threateningly.  
  
'Jesse . . . when could he have done this?' I demanded. 'When could he have sneaked in and grabbed Spike and . . . eugh, you know? Whoosh, splat?' I shuddered, looking very reluctantly at the seeping blood down my wall, the message from – who else could it be? – Paul and the red stained, stiff dead cat in the bath below the wall, with a dark smudge following it.  
  
'Oh God,' I shook my head in disgust. My mind was popping. This wasn't real. 'He killed an innocent animal, Jesse. Well, sure, Spike was kind of the Goliath of cats, but still. He was an animal. He wasn't doing anyone any harm, except maybe mental scarring. Nothing was wrong with him! So why did Paul have to go try and chop him up? It's –'  
  
'Susannah, this is no time to prattle on. And certainly not at that speed,' Jesse said grimly, grabbing my shoulders and giving me a thorough shake. My hair shook in my eyes. This was weird. Why did I feel this scared? Why had my brain slowed right down, so I could barely see the whiteness of the bloodied bathroom wall? Everything was turning out so grey, so dark . . .  
  
I knew why.  
  
I knew exactly why.  
  
"No more games, you bitch."  
  
He'd had enough of the playing around. He'd done enough teasing, enough haunting. He was tired of chasing. He wanted the big kill. Paul wasn't going to play fair anymore. He wasn't going to mess around with that sick humour. He'd lost his patience. The mercy would disappear. The "love" would die. Even if it wasn't love, that's what he thought it was.  
  
Oh God . . . I was so dead. Paul was going to kill me. He'd had it. I'd pissed him off once too many.  
  
Spike's fur was clumped together by the moist red blood. This murder had been atrociously recent. The cat's eyes were grey, lifeless. They looked like a porcelain dolls, lacking that cute little fake twinkle. There was nothing cute there. Nothing remotely appealing at all. Blood stained the eyelids. Dark, red, thick . . .  
  
'Susannah, listen to me!'  
  
Jesse was shouting in my face. My thoughts had ensnared me, but I jerked myself back into reality.  
  
'He's gonna kill me,' I told him, my voice surprisingly calm. It wasn't what I was feeling! I wanted to run, screaming. I was so scared! But I couldn't. I couldn't be scared! SUZE SIMON DOES NOT SCARE.  
  
Unless Paul Slater was concerned. Oh God . . . He was physically going to kill me! Like Spike! He was going to shove an axe through my stomach!  
  
HOLY SHIT!  
  
'Susannah, please, you have to keep it together. I have no other option, I realize, than to guard you tonight. I refuse to leave you at his mercy this night. He . . . he's a murderer. I think he's realized that you would not only be a pleasure to kill, but a conquest, over me. I do not know. But I have some insight to how his mind works –'  
  
'But he's gonna kill me.'  
  
'No he's not! The day he kills you is the day I stop loving you, Susannah. Which is never!' Jesse shouted, pulling me into an embrace. So protective, so warm.  
  
Oh God, Paul was going to kill Jesse too! If I didn't get away from him he was going to kill Jesse! And maybe even other people!  
  
NOOOOOOOOO!!!  
  
I stared at Spike's carcass, and my world began to shatter again. If I didn't do something, everything I knew, loved . . . it would all fade away . . .  
  
I had to stop Paul.  
  
'Jesse,' I said forcefully. 'We have to exorcise him.'  
  
~*~  
  
Jesse looked at me very suddenly. 'Uh, Susannah . . .' he said very slowly.  
  
I blinked. Everything was hazy, and dark. I did not need his uh-Susannah's at the moment. Hell no! 'What?' I demanded.  
  
Jesse wiped a hand down his face, still holding me. 'It has surfaced that Paul, well, he has an immunity to exorcisms.'  
  
. . . What the hell?  
  
I stared. 'But that's impossible. No spirit is safe from being exorcised. EVERYONE is affected . . . right?'  
  
"Wrong. It is implausible, but real. Believe me when I say that I have tried. Susannah, he cannot be exorcised. Whether it has to do with him being a shifter or a new power he has come across, or even a shielding spell, I haven't a clue. But he is protected, nevertheless.'  
  
Now I was panicking.  
  
'Jesse,' I said, 'What do we do then? HUH? HE'S GONNA KILL ME IF –'  
  
'Nombres di Dios, I'm AWARE of that!' he roared back at me, and promptly began pacing rowdily. I stepped back from him. Not real. I fell asleep while Jesse and I were kissing, and now I was having this horrible dream about axes and psycho cats and even more psycho ghosts using axes on psycho cats. This was NOT REAL.  
  
GHOSTS COULD NOT HAVE IMMUNITY TO EXORCISMS!  
  
They . . . they couldn't . . .  
  
I began shaking violently. I don't know why. I don't usually shake. It's so not my thing. But I couldn't help it. My body was reacting to this horribly. The new blood in my veins felt as if it was acid beneath my skin. Shaking . . . with fear.  
  
I was terrified.  
  
'No, no, no . . .' I said over and over again. I staggered over to my bed, but my legs failed, and I crumpled to the floor in a mess. I knew already that Paul was going to kill me. He knew how to. He'd break me first, make my world not worth living, and then make me welcome death. I knew how he worked.  
  
No I didn't. I knew nothing about Paul. I didn't WANT to know what was going on in his mind!  
  
Jesse ran to me, and slid a strong arm beneath my knees, and the other around my upper waist. He hoisted me up, and then lay me on my bed. I was still shaking. This wasn't right . . .  
  
Dream, nightmare? Hallucination, even?!  
  
ANYTHING BUT REALITY.  
  
Spike was dead! He'd been killed by an AXE! I'd only just met him! I'm sure he wasn't that bad, once you got used to all the coughing up of hairballs, but now I never got the chance to teach him that scratching was wrong. Spike was DEAD. Horrifically murdered.  
  
Big "Ew Factor" there.  
  
Spike was dead, and I was going to go next . . .  
  
This was sick.  
  
I wasn't crying. That was the only, ONLY thing that I was thankful for. Well that and that Jesse was here for me. How we'd been all close just a few moments ago, all warm . . .  
  
And luckily, he didn't exactly let go when he set me down on my bed. He held me head close against his shoulder, his fingers meshed in my russet curls. We were still all close and warm. His hold was possessive.  
  
I hate being protected, but if there was one thing I needed at that second, it was Jesse holding me like that, as if everything was going to be okay.  
  
But it wasn't. He and I both knew that . . .  
  
What with these stupid vampires, and Paul, I don't think that I'll get a second to myself to chuck on a little lipgloss even!  
  
I was done for.  
  
I must have fallen asleep, but when I woke up a little at about four in the morning, Jesse was still there, watching me closely. But he didn't see my eyes open a crack.  
  
I went back to sleep.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
Me is going on camp for 3 days. Deal.  
  
Don't be pissed with the Spike thing? Sorry, but I HATE the creature. And it seemed pointless to the story. Jesse isn't still living there, is he? Review!!!  
  
Love Lolly. 


	13. Black Roses

If you haven't already, maybe check out the songfic I wrote from Paul's POV, that ties into this story? It's called "Hate to Love." I'm kinda proud of it . . . So if you wanted more about Paul's character, yeah, check that out. Okay, yeh.  
  
Candace – Your story rocks, babe.  
  
Luna – you need help . . . This spork thing is worrying me now. **************************************************************************** *******  
  
Jesse's POV.  
  
I didn't know how to feel. Paul Slater had made another attempt on Susannah's life. I . . . I wanted to kill him, but I knew that wasn't an option. I wanted to exorcise him, but even that was out of the question. And this attack on the cat, my God. It was sadistic, heinous. To think, that could have been my Susannah! It was a horrible thought indeed. I was speculating when he could have had the opportunity to do such a thing. I would have thought that there would be no time, yet seemingly, Susannah's and my, er, expressions of love, had been distracting.  
  
But Paul, he'd gone too far . . .  
  
That message, the one printed in the blood of the cat, it was terrifying for Susannah. She reacted very uncharacteristically. It was not like her to break down like she did, be so terrified that she could not move and barely breathe even. It wasn't like her.  
  
How do you know what she's like, Jesse? You've been in Spain all of this time. The time where she needed you most . . .  
  
I stared longingly at my Susannah. She was now asleep, although, I couldn't say she was restful. No, her forehead was creased in anxiety, and she was very tense all over, beneath the thin bed-covers. They draped over her body gently, yet were pulled taunt when she twisted to face me, still grimacing in her dreams. Her hand, it clutched something firmly in her hand, so furiously, her whole hand was shaking.  
  
Oh . . . a glimmer of a smile came to me. It was my Shaman brand. The one that I'd given to her. She had no idea what that meant to me. No idea in the world.  
  
She had no idea what she meant to me, ether. But I place both of those things in entirely different categories.  
  
Not that Susannah is a "thing." Never a mere 'thing."  
  
And who was this "Thaddeus Beaumont" boy? The name was reminiscent to me, like a whispered memory from the past. Beaumont . . . I frowned in my thought. When was that name mentioned? The name Thaddeus, for some reason, wasn't as familiar as the name "Beaumont" was. Where had I heard that name?  
  
It didn't entertain me not to understand some of these things. You could almost call me "obsessive" when I wanted to know answers. It was horrible to be ignorant of something. To not know.  
  
I was sidetracked from my thoughts when I heard Susannah sigh in a distraught manner. In her sleep, but nevertheless. What were these dreams that she was having? Could they have anything to do with Paul?  
  
Oh God. I do realize what is happening. I blame him for everything, don't I?  
  
I groaned to myself, watching Susannah intently. Every twitch of her lips, every movement of her eyes, every curl of her fingertips . . . She was so beautiful. How could innocence like this be real? Beauty so immaculate be possible? The Lord had created this perfect angel. That was why it hurt so much to see her live in this endless fear. This torment that Paul Slater subjected her to.  
  
I had no desire to sleep. Never. Not while there was a chance that he would return to finish the things that he wanted to do. I knew Paul too well. And he knew me even better. It felt so surreal. This boy that I had grown up with, laughed with, been supported by . . . he was a murderer. I knew how he thought, his motives, but I could pinpoint the moment where his whole attitude to the world changed.  
  
Who knew?  
  
The feeling of killing, it had been the worst experience of my life. Pulling the trigger of a weapon that I knew would destroy a life. Take it away. You have no idea what it is like to do this. It . . . it feels like you are taking away something of yourself as well. Your integrity, honour. I felt almost hollow, knowing that I was indeed, a murderer.  
  
Just like him.  
  
But the fact that Susannah had been dragged into this chaotic war of vengeance was the part that killed me the most. Knowing that more was at take than my own life.  
  
So much more.  
  
It was as if, the moment that I had met her, I suddenly had a powerful reason to keep myself alive. Do not misconstrue me, I have no death wish. There has never been a time in my life where I have just wanted to die to stop any pain that I may have been feeling. I have always had the love of my family to live for, the great life ahead of me.  
  
But Susannah, well, it seemed like there would be no real life ahead of me without her in it.  
  
She was my life now.  
  
I was ashamed of myself for the way that this Querida Andres situation had been handled. Susannah, mi Dios, she'd thought that I hadn't loved her! There was not a second that I didn't love her. To think that my imprudence had caused her these qualms, well, it was awful. Although, it has to be said that my Susannah can, at times, ah, jump to conclusions. She had, of course, just assumed the worst from the little that I'd told her. Of course I had no interest in Querida in that way. She was a sweet girl, but she was far to orderly. Undeniably, my family had fallen in love with her neatness, punctuality, perfection, almost, but it was to a point where it was . . . irritating? Susannah . . . wow. She had that free spirit that few people have these days. She cared. Her nature was so beautiful, as was her loyalty. The fact that her eyes, beyond comparison, were the most beautiful, most sparkling green eyes that I'd ever seen in my life, well, that was certainly a plus. And her smile . . . it brightened up the darkest hour. Dios, there are too many magical qualities to list them all. All things about her were flawless. I felt like I was undeserving of such perfection.  
  
Wow. I was deep in this love, wasn't I?  
  
I'd fallen hard.  
  
I sat on her window seat, breathing evenly, staring that her fair face framed angelically by dark waves of hair, when a howl shattered the almost restful silence of my thoughts.  
  
I flinched in shock, as a shower of blue light appeared right beside Susannah's bed. Damn!  
  
Susannah burst up, her eyes wide and scared. I stood up and rushed over to her to let her know that I was here. I knew that this ghost wasn't Paul, this cry had been the cry of a child.  
  
A small boy of eight stood in front of Susannah, bawling to the heavens.  
  
'Spikey's dead! You got him killed! He's gone!' he wailed, balled fists rubbing his eyes furiously. 'Gone! And now I'm back here! You're a YUCKY MEDIATOR!'  
  
Susannah looked at him very sympathetically. Which, knowing her, was something quite extraordinary, considering her track record. Mind you, this boy was only young, so I guess she had compassion for him because of it.  
  
'Tim,' she soothed, and put her hands on his shoulders. He fell, crying, into her open arms. His face was shining with tears, and he was shaking severely. I stood, observing how Susannah was handling his condition.  
  
'Shhhh,' she hushed him. 'Come on, I know it sucks. I'm as scared as you are, dude. But I'm going to make it all better, okay –'  
  
'YOU CAN'T! SPIKE IS DEAD! HE CAN'T COME BACK!'  
  
Susannah sighed. 'I know that, Timmy. Shhhh.' The small boy hiccuped, and sniffed loudly. Susannah ran her hand through his mousy brown hair affectionately.  
  
'But do you know how he died?' he whispered to her.  
  
Susannah nodded glumly. 'Yes.'  
  
Timothy sniffed again. 'It was horrible. He . . . yuck. That's just gross. And sick. Do you know who did it?'  
  
Again, Susannah nodded. 'Yeah. And you know what? That guy who did it, he's going to pay for it.'  
  
'Is he a crazy person?' Timothy asked in a hushed voice.  
  
Both of them were conveniently ignoring my presence.  
  
Susannah smiled slightly, and gave me a sideways glance. 'He's a psycho, all right. And he's going to really be sorry that he ever hurt your cat.'  
  
Timothy's eyes welled up dangerously again, but Susannah gave him a firm hug again. I smiled proudly. She was like a mother. So beautiful. Timothy, he trusted her. Like she would make everything better. I knew how this felt, because of Adrianna. Whenever she held onto me, it was like she trusted me completely with her life. It was one of the best feelings in the world, to be a brother to something so small, and precious.  
  
Timothy was clearly traumatized. I did not understand exactly why. From what I could gather, Spike had been his cat – obviously – and . . . well, that's all I knew.  
  
But it's okay, he answered my question.  
  
'It's just that . . . I was kept back for him, and now he's dead,' he said in a terrified whisper into Susannah's ear. Susannah looked up at me with a tiny smile. 'It's okay,' she replied to him. 'We'll make it better.'  
  
Timothy hugged her tighter. 'Thankyou . . . '  
  
'What is your name?' I asked him.  
  
'Tim,' he said.  
  
'Yes, I know that,' I said kindly, 'Your last name.'  
  
'Oh,' he grimaced. 'Doherty. And don't go with all the jokes. I've heard them all. "Toe-dirty," and . . . and "no-shirty," and –'  
  
'Timothy,' I stopped him, smiling. 'I have no intention to tease you.'  
  
'Good,' he warned with a heavy pout, his eyes still glassy. 'Because I kick real hard, bud.'  
  
~*~  
  
Suze's POV  
  
Jesse took me aside.  
  
'Where's he going to stay, Susannah?' he asked with an anxious frown.  
  
I yawned. Come on, I was TIRED. It was like, almost two. I'd been asleep for the grand total of, I dunno, forty minutes? It had been one of the longest nights of my life. (A/N: Got that right. How many chapters has this night gone on again?) Mum still must have been filming. This sucked. Well, actually, I take that back. I'm sorry. My life had taken a complete turn. Jesse, oh God, he was back, and he was MINE. And that little declaration of undying love had been pretty neat, too. In fact, it put a lot of things in perspective. Who care about Paul? What harm could he do, really? I mean, I didn't think he had the guts to actually hurt my mum, or whatever. And even my step-brothers didn't seem like real targets. And Andy . . . to Paul, that was like, "Andy who?"  
  
But yeah.  
  
I could handle it.  
  
Now that Jesse was back.  
  
I smiled secretively, and brushed my fingers over the Egyptian pendant thingie just to make sure that it was still there. It was comforting beneath my fingers. But back to the present . . . Timmy. What was I going to do? I mean, now that his cat had gone, and he'd been brought back, what was his reason for staying on earth? God, not revenge on Paul, please. That would be weird. Like, Timmy going on a poking spree, all, "Hey, you killed my pussy-cat! Take that, mister!"  
  
Poke, poke.  
  
Then Paul would probably blow him up.  
  
Oh, PLEASE NOT REVENGE.  
  
He's only a KID!  
  
I stopped. He didn't have anywhere to go. He couldn't just wander around aimlessly. He was only what, nine? Nah, I'd made up my mind.  
  
'He's gonna stay here,' I said to Jesse calmly.  
  
He stared at me.  
  
And then snorted.  
  
'What?' I demanded indignantly.  
  
'Susannah, I don't think that you could handle taking care of a child. You are not a mother. If I am right in what I'm thinking, that you are quite fond of him, I must say that it will be a lot harder than you think, to keep him safe from Paul. Keeping him here will only make him a target of Paul. Even worse, Paul will use him to get to you if he knows that you've developed an emotional attachment with the boy. It would be unwise for you to do so, Susannah. I speak in your best interests, but primarily, Timothy's.'  
  
My mouth fell open in outrage. 'I don't have to be a mother to him, Jesse. God, I don't need to change diapers every five seconds. He's just . . . alone now. I'm not letting him go around on his own.' I yawned again in spite of the argument. 'And Paul won't touch him.'  
  
'You do not know that, Susannah.'  
  
'I . . . '  
  
He was right. In fact, everything he'd said had been the truth, basically. But I didn't care. Tim, the poor little guy, his cat was dead, and . . . well, his cat was dead.  
  
'He's staying,' I said firmly, crossing my arms. Timothy was looking at us curiously from the corner of the room, where he sat, practicing making my copies of "Vogue" float.  
  
Fast learner, too.  
  
'Susannah,' Jesse snapped, but at that moment, my magazine was rocketed at his head. 'Ow!' he scowled, and turned to Timmy, who was grinning broadly.  
  
'Sorry,' the kid shrugged. But of course he didn't mean it.  
  
I giggled, and ran my hand over where the flying publication had attacked Jesse. His eyebrows rose up curiously, but I pulled him into a gentle, warm kiss. We stood there, intimately, just lightly kissing, when a copy of "Dolly" slid in between mine and Jesse's face, blocking him from my view. It took me about three seconds to realize that I was actually kissing a picture of Orlando Bloom, and not Jesse.  
  
'You're gross,' Timothy commented from the corner.  
  
I spun around, miffed. 'Oi, that was mean.'  
  
He beamed at me, showing a missing tooth in his bottom row. Oh, he was just so cute.  
  
Puppy cute, mind. Jesse, he was cute in an entirely different way.  
  
I grabbed the magazine and tossed it on my bed. Jesse looked annoyed too, with me though.  
  
Probably because I was "so" stubborn.  
  
'Okay, Tim,' I turned to him, sighing. 'Here's the deal. You're allowed to stay here, okay?'  
  
He brightened considerably. 'Really?' he squeaked. But then, his smile froze slightly. 'Hang on . . . ' he said slowly. 'You guys won't be snogging all the time, right?'  
  
I blushed, and Jesse gave me a smug smile. Like, "get used to it. He's going to piss you off no end."  
  
Well, I could take Paul. Tim would be child's play.  
  
Literally.  
  
'No, we won't,' I said. 'Definitely not.'  
  
He relaxed. 'I'm glad. Because you could hear the smoochy noises.'  
  
I rolled my eyes, but smiled knowingly. Why did the little guy have to be so sweet?  
  
~*~  
  
'Suze, what are you doing at school? You should be resting.'  
  
CeeCee had run up the hall as I was walking to Calculus. My head was pounding dully, much to my chagrin, and I still felt a little fragile. Not how I liked to be, trust me. Fragile is NOT a good thing.  
  
I shrugged at her. 'I'm fine. It was just a little scratch.'  
  
But from the look CeeCee was giving me, she was dubious. Hell, she looked doubtful in a SCARED way. Whah?  
  
I blinked at her. 'Uh, CeeCee? Did I lose you?'  
  
CeeCee stared at me, her forehead creasing ever more. I was taken aback. Huh? Did she . . . Nah.  
  
Hang on . . .  
  
*Flashback*  
  
'Is cause for blood loss identified?'  
  
'No . . . she has no marks upon her body except her neck, but the wound is too small for her to have lost so much. Her friend wasn't giving any details, either.'  
  
. . . F-f-friend?  
  
*End*  
  
I went dead still. 'CeeCee, was it . . . was it you who found me the other day? When, you know, I was unconscious?'  
  
CeeCee's eyes darted away. 'Maybe.'  
  
Frustrated, I groaned. 'Cee . . . was . . . Paul still there? That guy? The one who asked you about me and Jesse last month? Was he – '  
  
'So what if he was?' she yelped, turning away.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
'Did he say anything . . . weird?' I asked. If he said anything about Tad, by God, I would – well, let's just say he and Spike would have a lot in common.  
  
CeeCee crossed her arms. 'Maybe.'  
  
Oh.  
  
My.  
  
God.  
  
A bubbling rage simmered within me. I slammed my locker shut, forgetting about class and everything, and marched straight up the hall.  
  
'Suze! Wait!' CeeCee ran up to me. I kept on walking. I was going to KILL HIM! Well – shit! It was times like this I regretted that he was a ghost. It meant I couldn't rip his head off and make the damage permanent.  
  
SCREW PAUL!!!!  
  
'Suze, look. What he said, I can't remember,' CeeCee giggled unpersuasively. 'Really. I'm sure –'  
  
'What did he say?' I demanded heatedly, as people parted to let me pass.  
  
'He . . . well, he was going on about – look, he's crazy, who cares what –'  
  
'Tell me!'  
  
'Vampires!' she snapped. 'It's stupid. Vampires and demons. As if –'  
  
Huh? Demons?  
  
DEMONS?! On top of everything ELSE?!?!  
  
I groaned in aggravation, disrupting everyone in the hall. They stared momentarily, sniggered slightly, but continued chatting. I still kept marching on to Father Dom's office. Something HAD to be done!  
  
'Suze, come on. It's not true, right?' she asked. 'He's a nut case, isn't he?'  
  
I stopped walking, so that my hair swished forward and whipped my face. Oh God. This was what I wanted to avoid all my life. Questions. CeeCee couldn't believe everything she heard from Paul. She didn't want to. And now she wanted to make sure from me that it WAS all bull. She was on the verge of insanity here. I knew what she wanted to here, but I couldn't just lie, right?  
  
I mean, VAMPIRES. And . . . DEMONS? What the hell?!  
  
'Yeah, Cee,' I said dryly, 'He's a nut. Forget what he said. He was on his ghostly crack.'  
  
CeeCee pursed her lips. 'Simon, stop it.'  
  
I shook my head, and kept walking. Paul, he was going to tell my friends everything. No, I wouldn't let him. I fought me own battles – with occasional exceptions of a Mr J. De Silva – and Adam and CeeCee weren't to know everything about me like they. The way they'd both found out had been accidental. But Paul . . . now I knew. He was going to expose everything.  
  
Oh, shit!  
  
I HAD to find a way to exorcise him! I didn't care what Jesse said. There had to be a way, some way to make him leave. He couldn't just make me live like this, in fear that everything I loved and knew, would just crumble around me. My secrets revealed . . .  
  
NO.  
  
'Oi, the nerd wants his essay back.'  
  
Dopey's voice stopped me in my tracks. I ran round to the other side of the lockers, and saw that Dopey and Scott and a throng of other jocks were jeering at this scrawny little ninth grader, who was trying to grab a paper from Dopey's beefy hand. He jumped high, but Dopey, being freakishly tall, held it out of his reach.  
  
My already boiling blood hit the temp of no return.  
  
I burst into the mob of stupid guys, and kicked Dopey in the back of the kneecaps. He grunted in shock as he fell forward, the paper fluttering out of his hands. The kid caught it, and he shot me a grateful but terrified look, and scarpered. Dopey scrambled up, furious.  
  
I glared at him, as his mates went all with the mockery. To my darling step- brother, I hissed, 'If I catch you doing that again, I'm going straight to Father Dom.'  
  
He looked at me as if I was a nut. 'I'm SO scared, Suze. Really.'  
  
'Yeah?' I said. 'Well, as your Vice President, Brad, I have a very powerful voice. Combine said voice with the principal's of this quaint little school, we can have you kicked of the wrestling team like that,' I snapped my fingers.  
  
Dopey's eyes widened. 'No way,' he retorted in panic, 'You're bullshitting.'  
  
'Wanna take me up on that?' I snarled. His brows practically met, he was so angry.  
  
'You're a bitch,' he growled, walking past and shoving me in the shoulder. Scott threw me an ugly look. I smiled cheerfully at him, waggling my fingers.  
  
Well, that served to be quite a good de-stresser.  
  
Should kick his butt more often.  
  
I sighed, and dragged my hand through my hair. CeeCee had gone to class by then. I was late. Most people were out of the hall, but Dopey's gang were typically taking their sweet time. I ran back to my locker, grabbed my books, and ran to Calculus. I mean, I could have just bummed it off and spent a period gibbering to Father Dom about Paul's threats, but that wouldn't suit at all. He'd get worried, and he'd probably tell me to do something drastic, and really, I didn't know what I wanted to do about the whole thing.  
  
You know what the worst bit was?  
  
If you asked me to exorcise him, right here and now . . .  
  
I'd probably say no.  
  
~*~  
  
I was sitting in calculus, feeling very guilty. Mr Osbourne was drawling on about like terms and shit, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy thinking about the wretched thing that I was.  
  
What was going ON with me?  
  
I stared at my textbook, but not seeing it, you know? Staring past it. I could feel that Egyptian pendant around my bitten neck. Those two things seemed to clash, for some reason. A vampire bite and a symbol of love. They weren't opposite things, but I dunno . . . The vampire bite was like . . .hunger, wasn't it? Craving for blood? Desire, just like lust?  
  
Love and lust. Everything in my life boiled down to those two things. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Light and darkness . . .  
  
Jesse and Paul.  
  
Mr Osbourne's monotonous brogue almost put me right to sleep, in a total non-lullaby way, but then there was a knock at the door. I was jerked out of my somnolent state, and my eyes snapped to the door. Rolling his eyes, portly Mr Osbourne grumbled. 'Come in . . . '  
  
I blinked in wonder as a tall but squalid looking guy stumbled in, clutching the biggest bouquet of roses I'd ever seen in my life. Funny, they were red. Blood red . . . but they'd been cleverly spray-painted black for dramatic affect. Wow. Who was the lucky girl?  
  
'These,' the guy muttered clearly, 'Are for a Susannah Simon? Is she here?'  
  
My face flared up horrible. Oh my God, no . . . How embarrassing. All eyes turned to me. I blushed, and swallowed. 'Uh, yeah . . . '  
  
The guy's eyes fell on me. He dumped the bouquet on my desk. Were these from Jesse? Aw, so SWEET! But . . . it was weird . . . 'Funny situation this was,' the guy went on, 'Some little kid – Jack, I think – came into the florist, scared to death. Told me the name, address of the school, everything. Paid himself. Hands were shaking like a cell phone on "vibrate". He looked like he'd seen a ghost,' he laughed.  
  
'You don't say,' I said, staring in bewilderment at the roses. I could see thorns peaking out from under the black and red cellophane. Each petal of each blossomed bud was blood red, perfect . . . but with a dark shade on it from the speckled back spray-paint. What was all this?  
  
A little kid?  
  
Scared to death?  
  
Seen . . . a ghost?  
  
All the blood that had flown to my cheeks drained all of a sudden.  
  
This wasn't Jesse.  
  
'The kid, he gave me this to deliver with these,' the guy concluded. 'I'll just go now.' He left, whistling "Day that I die" by Good Charlotte. Joy. Everyone was still staring at me. Mr Osbourne looked most offended at the interruption in his class.  
  
My blood turned to ice in my veins as the man thrust a brown envelope at me. With cold fingers, I took it from him. My name was scrawled across the front in neat, sinuous cursive. But not Suze. Not even Susannah. Or EVEN Querida?  
  
"Susie . . . "  
  
As soon as the word reached my gaze, I dreaded what was coming. My hands began to shake. Still, all eyes were on me.  
  
I tore the brown envelope's flap off slowly and deliberately. My heart had stopped, I think. Literally, at a standstill. The paper sounded horrible as it was ripped steadily. I tried swallowing, but that wasn't possible anymore. My through was drier than the desert.  
  
I slid out the paper. It was smooth, and white. I could see the black script from the outside. It looked like calligraphy, or something. He was edging closer and closer to my heart . . .  
  
I opened the letter, and with a screaming warning, my world stopped functioning.  
  
I let out a silent scream, pushed myself away from the flowers on my desk, and ran.  
  
Ran.  
  
Footsteps, loud and fast.  
  
No . . .  
  
No, how could I have been so STUPID!  
  
Oh my God!  
  
He hadn't.  
  
This was a joke. He was messing with my mind.  
  
IT HADN'T HAPPENED!  
  
I screamed again, as I saw a black rose on the floor in the hallway. NO! This wasn't real! He couldn't be gone! WHY HADN'T I NOTICED?!?!  
  
I was caught in a web of horror. A spider's web. A predator. Who went after anything he could get.  
  
All around me, I saw the black roses. Millions. But they weren't spray- painted.  
  
They were all dead.  
  
I couldn't breathe . . .  
  
I hadn't even noticed! I'd been so busy; I'd just . . .  
  
No!  
  
NO!!!!!  
  
The black handwriting had been burnt in my memory. Stark black words on chalk white paper.  
  
...  
  
Daddy's burning.  
  
In hell.  
  
...  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Paul is edging closer to Suze's heart.  
  
Now review . . . 


	14. Exchanging Blows

Read and review!  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
I ran.  
  
Ran, ran, ran . . .  
  
Trying – to hide . . . from everything. From the roses. They were everywhere! Wilting, withering, dead, decaying . . . all around me!  
  
They – they were everywhere!  
  
Thorns, black falling petals . . . millions of them, no . . .  
  
DAD!  
  
I ran faster and faster. My heart was threatening to break my chest. My head was whirling so fast, the blood pumping so frigging hard! My breath was painful and quick . . . but it was getting harder to gulp down the air . . .  
  
I ran, ran . . . I fell against the wall, my clammy palms flat against the plaster. I gasped for breath. I jammed my eyes closed, escaping.  
  
He's messing, Suze . . . Dad, he's fine. So he hasn't dropped in for a while . . . that is perfectly normal, right? He's been distracted with the new tenants in New York. Ha, yeah, of course! Calm down, Suze.  
  
But how would he know about Dad? How could he?  
  
. . . HOW?!  
  
Oh my God!  
  
I started trembling so violently. I opened my eyes with a strangled gasp. My knees, they gave way, and I fell down against the wall, hands covering my mouth.  
  
Dad. He usually turned up at the worst times.  
  
Just to annoy me.  
  
That's why he was still hanging around.  
  
To annoy me.  
  
Yeah . . . Annoy me.  
  
He – he was always there . . . even when he didn't come when I called him, he had always been there! Around, still here! Existing.  
  
And I hadn't noticed that he was gone . . .  
  
Black. Black everywhere. Roses, petals, stems –  
  
Thorns, that pricked.  
  
Even the most tempting rose has thorns.  
  
Oh, what had I DONE?!  
  
'Dad!' I yelled. My voice echoed uselessly in the empty corridor. It seemed too loud, but too quiet at the same time. Like no matter how hard I screamed, he wouldn't come . . .  
  
He never did, but this time, I knew . . .  
  
I could feel it. In my shivering body, in my choked up throat –  
  
In my chilled heart.  
  
Dad . . . he was gone.  
  
'No,' I whispered oh so quietly, my hands shaking against my chin. 'No, no, no . . . '  
  
'Yes.'  
  
My head flew up, and around. No, don't be here!  
  
But the corridor was empty.  
  
Thank God for –  
  
Suddenly, an ocean of the roses came flooding from nowhere! I yelled, and bolted out the front gate of the school, running for my life. Literally. I kept going, running as fast as I could possibly, humanly go. Everything flashed past me, dewy grass, foggy roads, overcast skies, colourless flowers.  
  
Flashes. Never a whole picture.  
  
My hair was slicing my face like a whip. I had to get away from them all! The roses, the blackness, the deadness . . .  
  
Death.  
  
He'd sent them.  
  
The roses, I mean. It was . . . it was sick. Grotesque, just like the attack on Spike . . .  
  
And I knew it wasn't going to stop. Not until he broke me.  
  
I'm pretty resilient, but there's only so much a girl can take!  
  
I was still running. Would I ever be far enough away? And what was I running from? Illusions? Were they even real? Or was it just a vile mirage?  
  
WAS IT JUST A DREAM THAT DAD WAS GONE? WAS I DREAMING?!  
  
Please, let me be dreaming! PLEASE!  
  
I had run as far as the cemetery. I climbed swiftly over the gate, landing on my feet with a little less coordination than usual. I felt so dizzy . . . like none of this was really happening. God, please, don't let any of this really be happening.  
  
I ran past all the graves, quickly and silently. Was Paul's grave in this cemetery? So I could spit on it? Or was he buried in Seattle? The dirt I was running over was unturned, muddy and gritty. The damp sand – now grimy mud – was tarnishing my once white shoes. Spoiling them.  
  
My breath was still shallow and quick.  
  
Why wasn't Dad's grave here? Why did we have to cremate him? Why could he have a grave like everyone else, so everyone knew that I had a father who loved me? Why did he have to get stuck on some crummy plaque back in the New York Burial Ground? WHY? Why wasn't he here with me?!  
  
Again, I halted sharply, leaning heavily on a large, rectangular marble headstone. It was cold beneath my fingers. Hell, everything was cold. A frosty wind swathed me chillingly. I shut my eyes again. I was shaking like hell.  
  
How could he do this? How could he affect me like this? Was it just the things he did and said? Or did he have some power over me that I didn't know of? Oh, God, it hurt . . . The fear, I mean. Knowing that in the end, nothing could be done. That in the end, he would win . . . that he'd kill me.  
  
I looked around hesitantly, cold air filtering through my nose and drying my oesophagus completely. I felt like there was a blockage in my sinuses, but it could have just been due to the heavy fog that was now upon me, and the whole cemetery.  
  
So like the Shadowland . . .  
  
Stop it, Suze! God!  
  
I looked down on top of the marble grave, and screamed.  
  
Another black, dead rose . . .  
  
'Stop it!' I screamed shrilly, holding my head in despair, 'Stop chasing me!'  
  
I stumbled away, and my eyes fell on a mausoleum near the center of the graveyard. It was the biggest in the graveyard, but it had a DOOR. That was all I cared about. I'd hide in there . . . No one would find me . . . yeah, good plan, Suze. Good.  
  
I dodged all the graves, and accidentally stood on a few in my urgency. The mausoleum loomed closer and closer with each stride. Air was so shallow in my lungs now, it hurt to breathe. The coldness of the fog was taking its toll. And my heart was beating faster than my head was pounding, which was really saying something, because GOD was my head dancing rapidly.  
  
But finally, I barged at the door of the mausoleum, and it broke open. Well, it kind of wasn't even closed, so I didn't break it, actually. God, Father Dom would have my head on a platter if I did . . .  
  
Inside, I fell to my hands and knees on the dusty ground, panting. Everything in the crypt . . . whoa. It was very metallic; there were four metal pillars all around the area and the walls seemed to be coated with sheets of metal also. I didn't know why. Yet, the stone grave itself, above ground, was stone.  
  
Heavy stone.  
  
Very carefully, I stood up, brushing my capris off anxiously. It was considerably warmer in here, but a lot stuffier. The air was thick and dusty. Everything seemed grey in here, with a tint of beige everywhere, somehow. No light got in here, except for the narrow bar that stretched across the floor, from the open door. With a squeak, I jumped over and slammed it shut, shoving the padlock in very heavily, and then turning the little knob to shut it. Why'd they have to make locks so complex these days? Honestly.  
  
'Ha,' I said smugly, turning back around slowly, 'Let's see you get through that, P –'  
  
'Wasn't that hard.'  
  
I screamed blue murder. Dark, leather-clad Paul stood RIGHT over me, leering down at me. I backed right up against the door, and furiously rattled the bolt of the lock, but it did not come undone magically. All of a sudden, I felt extremely vulnerable.  
  
'No,' I whimpered. Paul, he just stared, his eyes dark, and his smile even darker . . .  
  
I shrank back. No . . . this wasn't FAIR!  
  
'What did you do to my Dad?' I stuttered, my tone quavering.  
  
He bowed his head, but still leered at me with a malicious thin-lipped smile.  
  
A muscle in my neck was having a spaz attack. 'What did you DO?' I repeated, my voice stronger, and angrier.  
  
He wasn't even blinking. Just grinning . . . like that.  
  
I swallowed hard. 'Answer me, or –'  
  
In a brusque movement, he shoved me against the wall, each of my wrists in his hands. He jammed them both beside my head. 'Aaah, Suze . . .'  
  
I let out a very embarrassing little moan. He tickled my neck with his ghostly breath. He didn't deserve breath. Oxygen was for the living. He wasn't converting it into carbon dioxide like the rest of us, but that wasn't the point. He'd lived his time, he couldn't keep acting like he was still alive. He didn't deserve to.  
  
I turned my head sharply to the left. Images flashed through my head . . . Spike axed to the wall . . . Bloody messages . . . Black calligraphy . . . Roses . . .  
  
Roses everywhere.  
  
Paul was a lunatic. He was past insanity. A heartless, sick, twisted killer.  
  
He gently released one of my hands, and trailed a finger down a muscle in my neck, you know that one that appears when you turn your neck? Yeah, that one. He left an icy burning sensation along my skin. It was horrible.  
  
'Get – off me,' I snarled through gritted teeth. His ghostly form – that was pinning me against the mausoleum door – was far too warm to be plausible. Why? Ghosts were supposed to be all spine-tingles and chills. Why did he feel so warm against me like that?  
  
'Come on, Suze, aren't you having fun?' he said, his voice saturated with callous humour. And with that, he seized me around the waist and – literally – flipped me over his head, slamming me on the lid of the elevated grave in the center of the crypt. I cried out, but he climbed over me, and clamped a hand firmly over my mouth. I tried to get up, but it was too hard. He was now on his knees, sitting over my lower waist. He wasn't just keeping me still with his weight, but with . . . with something else, as well. Something that was painfully new to me.  
  
I couldn't speak.  
  
'Okay, I get it,' he smiled down at me, his lips crooked, 'You're obviously not enjoying all of this as much as I am. Pity, it's so much fun,' he leaned down towards my face, so he was right above me. '. . . torturing you.'  
  
His fingers were hurting my jaw. I shut my eyes, and scowled horridly – and silently. There was only a very small space between the top of his index finger and my nostrils, for me to get air.  
  
I wasn't getting enough.  
  
WHY COULDN'T I MOVE?  
  
'Look at me,' he said softly.  
  
I squinted my eyelids closed even more.  
  
His hand crushed my jaw – I squirmed around in urgency. I still could not verbally protest . . . I could barely move.  
  
I flicked my head around, and my eyes snapped open. I glared up at him, my eyebrow twitching in hatred and dread. Dusty air entered my lungs in brief amounts, and my throat was getting very raw.  
  
'Suze, Suze, Suze,' he chided teasingly. 'Don't look at me like that, it's not going to get you anywhere.' But I could see the brutality stirring behind his eyes. This was the little mercy he was displaying me. I doubted it would last long . . .  
  
With his hand, he squeezed my lips so that they resembled a fish's. It was disgusting. I could hear the wet noises of my mouth's movement.  
  
'Let me speak,' came my distorted request.  
  
Paul inclined his head in mirth, his eyes glinting evilly. 'Oh yeah, where are my manners?' He jammed his hands on my shoulders, and ran them slowly down my arms until they reached my elbows. He held them in a secure, tight grip.  
  
'Talk then, Susie. What do you have to say?' he said subtly, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. The air was so thick . . . and hot . . .  
  
Yet again, I swallowed. 'You, Paul, are a sadist.'  
  
He laughed at that one. 'Oh, you noticed. Yeah, I'm working at it.'  
  
I writhed awkwardly. 'What you did to the cat . . . that was sickening.'  
  
'Mmm, I thought you'd like that one,' he breathed at me. I shook my head at him. 'Like it? Oh, cat blood totally fits in with my decor, Paul, really. No, it was disgusting, and was further proof that you deserve to be dead –'  
  
SLAP.  
  
His eyes had lost the toying glint. They were lethal again.  
  
'Don't you DARE stay that,' he spat at me, his raised hand shaking threateningly. 'You have no damned idea about anything, so just shut the hell up!'  
  
I wisely ingested my retort.  
  
'Where's my dad?' I demanded.  
  
A hard smile crossed his lips. 'I wasn't lying, Suze,' he said to me, 'He's where I said. In hell. Or the nearest equivalent. It helps to have a little brother that you can boss around, you know. Well, scare to death, more likely.'  
  
I just stared at him. This guy, oh my God. He had nothing there. No compassion, no love, no humanity at all! It was revolting. And my dad.  
  
He was really gone.  
  
I almost cried, but I didn't . . .  
  
Then, with a coil of his hand, and this weird swirl of red light, a black rose materialized into his hand. My breath was cut short. 'Stop it,' I said, scared.  
  
His grin broadened. His hand slid over one of mine, and picked it up. He opened my palm, much to my resistance, but I couldn't hold him off without him breaking my fingers. Then, he pushed the rose's stem into my hand, and closed it tightly with his own.  
  
I felt the many thorns pierce my skin. I smothered a gasp of pain, and bit down hard on my tongue. Ow . . .  
  
Paul relaxed his hand, and the rose fell from mine, the petals falling off and withering on the spot. He showed me my hand. There were many little punctured in my skin, where little dribbles of thick red liquid trailed out. This . . . ew, it was even more macabre. 'Look, Shifter blood,' he said. 'But yours has been diluted, Suze. From your blood transfusion. You have other blood in you now. Your power is there still, no doubt, but not your purity.' He held my injured hand to his mouth, and kissed it. Ew!  
  
'Mmm,' he smiled, 'I should have been a vampire, you know . . .'  
  
My nose flared furiously. 'You are going to get a big kick up the ass someday. You're not going to see it coming,' I sneered at him quietly.  
  
He glared, but then chuckled darkly, laying my hand on my chest. 'You're probably right,' he ran a finger down my cheek, to which I flinched, 'But in the meantime? I'll have my fun with you . . . '  
  
My eyes widened. Huh? What was that? What did that mean? What the HELL was THAT supposed to mean?  
  
Both his hands came to either side of my face. But they were gentle. There was a very unique softness in his touch. Even his pissed off facial expression had diminished ever so slightly. Again, I started shaking. I hate shaking. It's almost as bad as crying. It shows that you're scared. Or cold. But mainly scared.  
  
His lips parted a tiny bit, and his eyes became very . . . sensuous. Whoa, back off poochie . . .  
  
'Damn,' he muttered, shaking his head vaguely. 'Why'd they have to make you so beautiful?'  
  
Say WHAHH?  
  
Okay, that was kind of when I was most freaked. Now he was REALLY of his nutter. This obviously declared him incurably, criminally insane. So, with as much brawn as I could muster, I pushed him up by his stomach with my hands, and then kicked my feet under there too, cannoning him over me, to the ground. He landed with a land thud, but it was only audible to me – well, I presumed. But the time it took for him to scramble up was the time it took for me to be on my feet, in my most intimidating fighting stance.  
  
When he was up, he stared at me curiously. Then he sniggered. 'Suze . . . you're not going to try fighting me again, right? I mean, come on . . . you know that you're going to lose.'  
  
'I'll take my chances,' I shouted down to him, brushing my loose hair back behind my ears.  
  
He lunged at my feet – remember? I was standing on top of that grave thingy – but I jumped, and totally kicked him in the fact. He growled, and stumbled back. I did a classic twisty back flip, right onto his shoulders. He crumbled down again. I kicked him violently in the stomach as he was laying on his side.  
  
'This is for Spike – and I didn't even like the cat!' I wheezed, kicking harder and harder, 'This is for Timothy – and this . . . this is for DAD –'  
  
On the word "Dad," he rolled on his back, and did this very interesting move like a backwards spin top, which resulted in him standing on his feet. It was pretty cool, but I guess I had marveled at it too long, because he elbowed me into the wall. I smashed against the metal, but rebounded, and charged myself into him. He emitted an "oomph!" and fell sideways, over the grave. I punched him in the chest – ow! I just felt my wrist crack! – but I doubt it did much. Then I punched him from under his nose, breaking it sufficiently.  
  
Well, for a ghost.  
  
'SHIT!' he roared, his hands flinging to his nose. 'Ow . . . oh, shit, Suze! What the – '  
  
He kind of shut up when I repeated the offense, only under his jaw. He grunted, and to my chagrin, I saw his nose snap back into place. Already? Damn!  
  
I lunged at him, but he was ready for me this time. As my fist was about to collide with his head, he caught it in the cup of his hand, threw it away, and seized me by the shoulders, leaning me back against the grave. I let out a low groan, and shoved him back, but he succeeded to kick me in the side. God, he was so fast! Why couldn't I have dexterity like that? WHY? Did I pass that queue when they were handing out shifter skills? No, I had to get double sanity, though.  
  
'I wish that Jesse didn't kill you,' I sneered at him, as he punched and I blocked.  
  
'And why is that?'  
  
'So I could kill you myself,' I shouted, as my kick's aim was true; my foot hit him square on the chest and he slipped back. 'Ha,' I mocked, but my celebration was too soon. Now he was getting pissed.  
  
'You know, you're such an idiot, Suze,' he growled, swiping at my head.  
  
I ducked. 'Nah, my teachers beat you to telling me that,' I replied, kneeing him in the – ironic, huh? – knee.  
  
He staggered, but recovered instantaneously. 'No, really. All this wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me, so long ago. I offered you the world, Suze, and –'  
  
'The world is not enough,' I said dryly, 'In a non 007 way, I mean.'  
  
He laughed darkly. 'You have no idea what a mistake you made when you refused my offer. There is so much that you could do. Stuff that Jesse has no idea about. He's just another shifter, but I can see that you'd go so – '  
  
'Duck.'  
  
'Where – AH!' he yelled, as I pummeled him in the face. It was pretty funny.  
  
I laughed for a second. 'Paul, you're sad. You are. I don't think I've met anyone who's even half of the loser that you are. You're a sick little boy who's playing a game that he's gonna lose, because he cheats and lies and doesn't have any team mates.' I placed my hands on my hips casually. 'Sorry, Paul, but you're low. Real low. Beneath me. Six feet beneath, to be exact,' I added nastily.  
  
He countered this little comment with a severe whack to my head. I went spinning into one of the pillars, and subsided to the floor. He stormed over in a dark rage, seized me my the neck and slammed me against the pillar, my feet dangling several inches over the ground. I spluttered – he was strangling me, and I couldn't, for a second, breathe.  
  
'P-kch–Paul–agh–don't– ' I choked out barely, kicking my feet uselessly, my hands were slapping his, but he wouldn't let go. His eyes were flashing in fury.  
  
Seriously, now THIS was scary, if everything before hadn't been. Everything was forgotten, just the realization that – once again – he had the ability to kill me, that very second.  
  
Not cool!  
  
I still tried struggling, but his hand became tighter, his face became angrier, and his arm became tenser. He was shaking, he was trying to hard.  
  
My eyes were just about rolling back up in head point, when he just dropped me.  
  
I fell to the ground in a heap, coughing energetically.  
  
Paul was staring at me coldly. 'I want to kill you now,' he growled, his eyes so murderous it cut, 'But I can wait . . . just a few more days . . . and everything will be different.'  
  
I massaged my neck, my mouth open wide as I gulped down oxygen – that I had lacked hitherto.  
  
'I'll wait for the right . . . ' his sentence faded, 'What the hell is that?'  
  
I glared, 'what?'  
  
'That . . . ' he stared at my neck. Oh God, this wasn't about the "hickey thing" was it? That was OLD. I mean, come –  
  
Paul snatched at something around his own neck. It was . . .  
  
Holy crap.  
  
'Where'd you get that?' I breathed.  
  
'Same place as Jesse got his, if that is even his,' he snapped. In his hand, he clutched a glinting silver rendition of the Egyptian shifter pendant.  
  
. . . Paul had one of those Shifter necklaces? What did that mean? Jesse said that he got it from his mentor guy. Did that mean that he learnt all the evil things that Paul knew? That Jesse was capable of what Paul could do, as well?  
  
Oh, God . . . Could this get any more complicated?  
  
Actually, don't answer that. I realized I just jinxed the whole thing.  
  
'I'm gonna kill you soon, Suze,' he said hauntingly to me. 'Soon . . . And no Daddy to help you anymore.'  
  
Oh God . . . Memories hit hard at home. Dad . . . The famous Peter Simon. He was gone.  
  
'Get out,' I breathed.  
  
Paul smiled at me. 'Oh, I intend to get out, Suze. I also intend to kill you. You're gonna be mine, love. But like I said, there's a time and a place for everything. Your murder will come then, and this will come NOW.'  
  
He was so fast, I didn't see him coming. Simply with his hand, he gave the lid of the raised coffin an almighty shove, and it went sliding across the room with an almighty crash. I jumped, and while I was still shocked, he lunged over, seized me around the waist, and threw me INTO THE GRAVE.  
  
I screamed blue murder as I landed on something very hard, but it crumbled beneath me.  
  
'Paul! God, don't!' I yelled and tried to get out, but he held me down, grinning like a madman. He was so – so strong! 'LET ME GO!' I screamed at him, thrashing. His hands held my shoulders tightly. His eyes flashed dangerously, with dark pleasure.  
  
'Oooh, this looks cosy,' he remarked with a spine-chilling laugh. 'Let's see if our little friend brings out the necrophiliac in you, Suze?'  
  
'NOOOO! DON'T! LET GO OF –'  
  
He complied rather quickly. Only, the face that he only did so to seize the cover of the coffin, well, that lost him brownie points.  
  
'Be seeing you,' he smirked, blowing me a sardonic kiss.  
  
And he slammed the lid down.  
  
Light was cut off from my vision.  
  
I lay, panting. No . . . this wasn't happening. But, it was. I was trapped in a grave, in a mausoleum that nobody ever visited! Oh God, I could be stuck here for ever! Panting, quicker and faster . . . how long would the oxygen last?! Oh no, God, please, don't let me be BURIED ALIVE!  
  
'Help!' I howled, shouting vulgar profanities to Paul. My voice was horribly loud, and close, and confined. Everything was hot, and stank terribly . . . 'HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE!'  
  
It was no use . . . but I couldn't give up! I NEVER gave up! I pounded on the roof of the coffin desperately, my gasping sharply. It hurt to breathe now, like this air was impure. Oh God, I was going to die – in a grave, with . . .  
  
My voice was terminated as my hand strayed a little to the left . . . it was . . .  
  
EW!!!  
  
LEMME OUTA HERE, GOD DAMN IT! NO, NOT A *SKELETON!!!!*  
  
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
**************************************************************************** *  
  
My attempt to thank you wonderful gorgeous people. Please review? Everyone means a lot to me, and I want to hear what you think of this.  
  
Climax is coming soon . . . about 2 or 3 chapters away. Get ready, gonna be big. Oh, and the identity of this "demon" will be revealed.  
  
Cheers!  
  
MystAngel. 


	15. Revived

WARNING! ALERT! Reread the end of previous chapter! Has been CHANGED!  
  
If you have already done so, happy reading. This chapter is a little longer than I expected . . . don't be mad . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Oh my God . . . This wasn't happening to me . . . I thought Paul wanted to kill me? Well, yeah, but later, didn't he say? As in, not now? Well, what was the DEAL? I was going to die from lack of oxygen in here! What, as a ghost, oxygen slipped his mind? Well, Paul-I'm-a-prissy-ghost-I-don't-need- air-because-I'm-so-cool-after-being-my-brains-blown-out-which-was-so-a-good- look-for-me-Slater is a dumbass, wasn't he? Just goes to show, kids, never get shot in the head, okay? It does things to your frigging BRAIN.  
  
'Help!' I screamed, hammering my fists on the inside of the coffin. Oh God, oh God . . . I couldn't breathe! Everything was so dark no, and the air was all carbon dioxide, and it stank, and there was a SKELETON LYING NEXT TO ME!  
  
And what the HELL is a necrophiliac?!?!  
  
(A/N: Look that up too. Oh Gosh, I'm a sicko, aren't I? Go on . . . just say it to my face. "Lolly, you need –"  
  
Cheese!)  
  
Now I was scared. No one knew I was here! I would just DIE here, and no one would know where to look! There'd be a new corpse lying next to one that was so, majorly old. And whiffy, let me tell you . . . I wonder if I'll ever get the stench out of my hair . . .  
  
I WONDER IF I'LL GET OUT OF HERE AT ALL.  
  
'HELP!' I tried one last time, in a futile attempt to stay conscious. I couldn't breathe. I tried, but – but I couldn't. The air, it was like it wasn't there anymore. I couldn't see anything, I could smell something, but even that was fading now, because I couldn't smell anymore without oxygen . . . It was so damn dark, and everything . . . looked . . . so . . . hopeless – now . . .  
  
My head fell to the side.  
  
~*~  
  
'Susannah! Susannah! Oh, dear Lord, do wake up!'  
  
Someone was shaking me frenetically. I blinked hazily, and made several realizations in a grand total of three seconds.  
  
I wasn't dead.  
  
Clean, fresh air was flowing through my lungs.  
  
It wasn't dark anymore.  
  
I was still in the mausoleum.  
  
Something STANK.  
  
Oh my God, it was ME NOW!  
  
Aw yeah, and there was Father Dom.  
  
'Hi Father Dom,' I said, waving.  
  
He nearly had a heart attack in his relief. His snowy hair was looking even more chaotic than the mausoleum I was in. And trust me, the mausoleum was messed up, after that little mêlée with our darling chum, Mr Slater.  
  
Whose family jewels were going to have a dusk appointment with my knee.  
  
Bastard!  
  
The pillars were all dented, there was rock and dust everywhere, the door had been broken open, and a little of the roof had caved in. I don't know how that last thing happened. Perhaps Paul was just letting off steam?  
  
Or not.  
  
I sat up. Yeah, that's right, I was lying down. Beside the coffin, but still. I was out of that damned thing! I realized that I was breathing heavily. Hell, at least I was bloody breathing now. I clutched my chest, and stared at the floor. Again, I'd almost died . . . The hand that was on my chest found the Shifter necklace.  
  
Paul had one too. It had been silver.  
  
Father Dom was looking at me anxiously, his hands confused in whether to support me, or not touch me. Poor old guy. It must suck to be a priest.  
  
I slowed my breathing to an even pace, my eyes shut.  
  
'How . . . how'd you even find me?' I asked him. 'I mean, looking for me in coffin in mausoleum? That was pretty random, Padre.'  
  
He shrugged slightly, and settled on extending his hand to help me stand. Hey, that rhymes. But then, so does death and breath. So what's the big deal?  
  
God, I hate poetry . . .  
  
I accepted his hand, and pulled myself up, my head incredibly light. I leant on the edge of the raised, open coffin. But I didn't look in.  
  
'Well, actually, er, Sister Ernestine witnessed you leaving school grounds. She, er, came directly to me to report it, rather than go and fetch you herself, I believe,' he said sadly.  
  
'Oh God. The nun has no soul,' I said in awe.  
  
Father Dom looked down at me in outrage. 'Susannah! Don't say such things! Sister Ernestine is a little . . . brazen, in her worst moments, but is a dedicated worker of the Lord, and respects the rules of our Mission with great –'  
  
'Yeah, whatever,' I said, rolling my eyes when he wasn't looking. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. What? I had an itchy nose, so sue me? 'But yeah, she told you I'd run away, and so you just go digging up graves? Phooey for you, but that's not all, right?'  
  
'No, it's not.' Father Dom twiddled his fingers unnervingly, and frowned significantly at me. 'Er, I went to your classroom to see if you had returned, but they said that you had – very distraught, they mentioned – run from the classroom subsequent to being sent, what was it, dead roses?'  
  
'Yeah,' I said in a low voice, 'That's it.'  
  
'Yes,' he continued. 'Mr Osbourne showed me a certain letter that had been delivered with these flowers. Oh dear, dead roses, such a terrible omen –'  
  
I coughed expectantly.  
  
Father D reddened. 'I . . . sorry,' he apologized in a mumble, 'But, after reading the note, I too ran out, looking for you. I saw that there were these black roses everywhere, but Susannah, only the ones that were delivered to your class were real.'  
  
I stared.  
  
'Uh . . . huh?'  
  
He readjusted his collar. 'Well, the roses that I saw throughout the hallway – I presume you saw them too – were merely ghost phantasms. Only powerful ghosts can make their victims see things that they do not want to see. I'm supposing that . . . oh dear, uh . . . Paul, isn't it?'  
  
I nodded briefly.  
  
'Yes, Paul. You said that he used to be a shifter, am I correct?'  
  
Again, I nodded.  
  
'Well, Paul's ability to make you see these things may have something to do with him being a shifter in his life,' Father Dom explained, opening his hands expressively. It really annoys me when people talk with their hands. Like, you know, "I'm going to kill you" is sometimes accompanied by a swift finger across the throat? And on "what's going on?" people hold out their hands and hunch their shoulders and – sorry . . . bad Suze. 'Yet,' Father Dom went on, balling one of his fists for emphasis – oh, great – 'Not even the most powerful ghosts can do this. There has to be a certain darkness in the spirit for them to invoke these powers of illusion.'  
  
'Oh, so he got rid of all his light bulbs then?' I said innocently.  
  
Father Dom scowled at me. 'For a start, that wasn't even funny,' he snapped. I snorted. Yay me . . . 'And this is not the time to attempt jokes.'  
  
'Hey, I can be funny. Look, why didn't the ghost go to the party?'  
  
'Susannah, this is not the time – '  
  
'Coz he had no "body" to go with,' I smiled.  
  
Hang on . . .  
  
'But then . . . there might be a mediator there . . . which would make it that he did have a body . . . even if it was just not there to everyone else . . . but it's still classed as a body . . . And – oh god, I realize that I just totally butchered my own joke. And isn't it supposed to be the skeleton that went to the party with nobody? I mean, no body?' I frowned in my thought, then remembered –  
  
'I WAS LYING IN A GRAVE WITH A SKELETON!' I cried out, throwing myself as far away from the grave as I could. 'EWW! EW, I NEED A SHOWER AND INTENSIVE THERAPY! EWWWW! EW –'  
  
'Susannah!' Father Dom shouted at me, his temper flaring.  
  
I went still. Father Dom *had* a temper? Um, join in when I say "huh?"  
  
He looked around, embarrassed, 'I apologize for that, you just . . . '  
  
'Make you so pissed off,' I finished for him glumly, hanging my head. 'Thanks.'  
  
'No – ' he held his head in frustration, massaged in between his eyes as if he was in pain, and then regarded me again. 'Susannah, I do wish that you would tell me everything that is happening with this Paul ghost. He does seem to be quite a –'  
  
'Anus? Jerk off? Dickhead?' I suggested.  
  
Father Dom's eyes went wider. 'Susannah, refrain from your vulgarism, I pray. I was going to go with "threat," but you have certainly made your disdain clear. I, uh, well . . . much as it pains me to say . . . I do believe that everyone deserves a chance to realize what is holding them back on this earth, in their own time . . . but this Paul fellow, he does seem to be quite, well, dangerous.'  
  
'Nuh,' I groaned at him. 'You think?' I held up my hand. 'I prick myself with rose thorns, Padre, really I do. I'm suicidal, you see. Not.'  
  
Father Dom shifted his weight to his left foot. 'Fair enough, Susannah. No need to be like that.'  
  
'Like what?' I demanded.  
  
'Sarcastic,' he said shortly, brushing down the front of his black robes. Why he was looking so priestly today, I had no idea. You know, with the new collar and all, and the – now dusty – new priest clothes? Oh well.  
  
I sighed. Aaah, air . . . at last. Hang on . . .  
  
'How long was I in there for?' I said slowly.  
  
Father Dom looked around awkwardly. 'Well, it remains to be seen –'  
  
'How long?' I asked firmly, my hands on my hips.  
  
He held his chin with his hand. 'Uh, well, approximately half an hour,' he mumbled.  
  
My mouth fell open.  
  
'Holy shit,' I said in astonishment, 'I was in there without air?'  
  
Now he was looking really uncomfortable. 'Yes, Susannah. As a mediator, you have a higher chance of surviving than all other, ah, humans. And yes, I did have to revive you.'  
  
'Whoa, hold the phone!' I exclaimed, holding my hands out vertically flat in front of me, 'Revived me? H-how exactly d-did you revive me?'  
  
Please don't be . . . oooh, God no . . .  
  
'Well,' Father Dom – actually – blushed. 'CPR, of course, Susannah.'  
  
EWW!!!!!!!!! He put his sixty year old lips on mine!!! Who knew where those lips had been?! I mean, it was kind of a blessing that he was a priest and they couldn't have been anywhere too gross, but STILL!  
  
EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!  
  
'WHOA!' I shouted, running away from him, 'Father Dom, I really don't think it should have come to that!' I gathered all of the saliva in my mouth and spat furiously on the floor. Ew! Oh God, EW!  
  
'Susannah, that – that's disrespectful!' he spluttered in rage, 'stop that!'  
  
It was a decent ten seconds before I did stop. I scrubbed my lips with my knuckles aggressively. I dunno, I think I would have been more appreciative if he'd let me die.  
  
Okay, getting a little dramatic there . . .  
  
Jeez, something REALLY stank.  
  
I sniffed my shoulders. Oh GOD, it was me! I needed a bath desperately –  
  
'Anyway,' he said jadedly, clearly pissed off that I was making such a big thing of it, 'As I was saying before, I do believe that it is definitely the time to exorcise this Paul spirit, because he obviously has the opportunity to move on, but will not.'  
  
'Uh, one problem,' I smiled nervously.  
  
'Yes, I am quite certain that – ' he stopped, and stared at me. 'Problem? What problem do you mean, Susannah?'  
  
I slid my hands in my pockets and walked around, shoulders slumped. 'Father D, can a ghost be immune to exorcisms?'  
  
Father Dom blinked, and looked at the roof, staring at where the ceiling had collapsed in. 'Er, I recall reading somewhere that . . . yes, and tremendous amounts of evil can protect a soul from exorcism. And also of course, demons have the power to protect ghosts as well.'  
  
My blood went icy. 'Come again?'  
  
'Demons . . . I know, a very far-fetched story, but I'm willing to believe that if these vampires that you say exist are really real, then demons might well be also,' he said quite fast, brushing a little wisp of white hair from his eyes.  
  
'No, Padre, I think that you're right,' I shook my head, and pointing at him softly. I put my finger to my lips and thought back. '. . . Paul's got some demon after him. Jesse told me something about it when we went riding on – you don't need to know that, ah ha . . . and Cee said he said something to her – '  
  
'CeeCee Webb?' the priest said with incredulity, his wrinkly face going blank with awe, 'the school paper's editor?'  
  
'Yeah, A grade student, blondest of all blondes – meaning white - social reject like me,' I slanted my shoulders, and leaned against the wall. 'Why? What's wrong?'  
  
'Paul, this boy, he appeared to her?' Father Dom said, still bewildered.  
  
'Stranger things have happened,' I nodded, smiling half-heartedly.  
  
'Oh dear,' Father Dom said. 'This Paul fellow, I . . . I think that he is possibly the most powerful ghost that we have ever faced, Susannah. Appearing to the living is most complex. It takes skill, concentration, and power. It's a very –'  
  
'Um, I got that,' I grumbled, pouting. I sighed again. My bottom lip was sticking out. 'Okay, so, Jesse has told me that Paul is resistant to being exorcised. Now that's what I call a big biggie.'  
  
'A big . . . '  
  
Father Dom shook his head at me. 'Your use of our English language astonishes me. But yes, it does complicate things a great deal. Susannah, can you get in contact with Jesse? Is he back at your house? I'm guessing that he's visiting from Spain, via dematerialization?'  
  
'Something like that. I'll check back at my house just OH MY GOD!' I finished with a scream, and jumped away from the wall. How had I missed it?  
  
Staring at me from the opposite wall of the room was another one.  
  
Another message.  
  
In charcoal.  
  
'Susannah, what –'  
  
I pointed vividly. 'There. Look what he wrote!'  
  
Father Dom looked confused. 'What does that mean? "Innocence doesn't last forever. Unless you're dead." Susannah, that doesn't make sense.'  
  
I was staring at it. My mind was swiveling so fast it spun. Innocence? Who was innocent? Was it me? Was he talking about me? Most likely. God, why did he think that I was innocent? I wasn't innocent, hell no. I'm a badass. Blah. I'm a teenage punk, so watch your back. Hehehe, rah, me scary and –  
  
Hang . . . Teenage. What if he meant, like, "childhood" or something, instead of innocence? Childhood? But . . .  
  
'Timothy!' I shouted, and ran for the door.  
  
'Susannah, please, tell me what is happening –'  
  
'No time, he's going for him!' I yelled back, as I zigzagged between the many gravestones. The fog had cleared a bit, but everything was still cold. The grass seemed less verdant than it ever did. But at least I could see no more black roses.  
  
Black . . . black calligraphy . . .  
  
'Oh God,' I said, and staggered in my running. I slipped and fell, sprawled over a granite grave. I just – well, it just . . .  
  
Dad. He was gone. I guess I couldn't deal as well as I thought I could. I mean, as a ghost, he was unreliable when I needed him, but he'd always been there, hadn't he? Just, knowing that he was in the background, checking that Andy had been good enough for my mum. I didn't tell you about the very first time that he visited me in Carmel, did I? Well, yeah. It was just after I'd found out that anger-management-Paul was destined to haunt my room. Well, dad had showed up . . .  
  
I closed my eyes, and thought back . . .  
  
*Flashback*  
  
'Great,' I muttered, digging my hand into my suitcase, and ripping out my clothes. 'Just bloody spiffing. Now to add to my problems as a mediator, one of those ghosts chooses to go all screwy and thus, I have acquired a room mate. Apparently, of the aggressive, overpowering, horny kind.' I stopped, my face warped in an expression of the deepest self disgust. 'Oh, my God . . . Did I just say that? Oh, I did. Someone kill me?!' I threw my many tops into one of the beautiful drawers that Andy had made me. They were finished with this glossy lacquer, and were oak. Very nice.  
  
I sighed. This would be my home for . . . well, I didn't know how long. Supposing, of course, that Paul didn't get pissed off with me, and decapitate me while I was sleeping. Wouldn't that be a hoot?  
  
But seriously, why did the bad guy have to be so . . . hot?  
  
No, not hot. I meant to say H-H-HOT!  
  
. . . I have a problem, don't I? Yes, I do. Great. Another thing to add to my list of, oh, I dunno, insanity?  
  
I quit my unpacking, and collapsed on my bed. My head was hurting. Why did this all have to suck so much? Why couldn't Paul be . . . you know, sane? Nice? Alive? I mean, someone that good-looking didn't deserve to be dead. He was like, a god.  
  
No, stop laughing at me! I'm serious! If it wasn't for the fact that he was possibly a psychopath – which was a slight turn off – Paul was MAJOR hot stuff. I mean, that hair was totally cute, all curly and brown . . . kinda like mine, but, well, shorter. Duh. And the outfit, it was so street wear! Totally stellar, man! But it was what was beneath the outfit that I hoped to discover . . . because from the looks of things, a pretty buff set of washboard abs dwelt beneath that thin designer material. And from the fell of things, too. Remember? He had me pinned against the wall.  
  
Oh God. Why was I tihnking like this? He wanted me dead, didn't he? He was like, grrr, argh, I'm a killer. It was written all over him. Well, not that I knew. I told you, I haven't seen "what lies beneath" yet.  
  
AND YOU NEVER WILL, SUZE! STAY FOCUSED!  
  
Oh, damn. This was going to be more difficult than I thought. I groaned. But he's so cute . . .  
  
STOP IT!  
  
All right, already!  
  
My God. I'm arguing with myself. Paul, this is all YOUR FAULT!!!  
  
Pouting, I inspected my nails. Oh, poop. Look at them. They were horrible! Plane anxiety, that's what. I refuse to go on a plane again! I mean, when we took off, I CHEWED MY NAILS. I don't chew my nails! Ever! So what was the deal?!  
  
My life sucks.  
  
I really wished I had someone to talk to, you know? But oh well.  
  
It's safe to say, the hand on my shoulder scared the living shit out of me.  
  
I swore obscenely after rolling off the bed as fast as lightning. I mean, as hot as Paul was, he couldn't just – just, well – go touching, right?  
  
Yeah, Paul. Don't touch this.  
  
'Hey, precious. Don't swear.'  
  
I peeked over the top of the bed, and saw who was standing there. My normal brain functions returned to me, and I released the big gulp of air I'd been holding.  
  
'Hi Dad,' I smiled, rolling my eyes. But then I got peeved. I mean, seriously! Just because he was dead, he SO didn't get special privileges! 'Hey, you can't just do that,' I snapped at him, sulking even more. I crossed my arms after I was sitting on my bed again. 'It's rude.'  
  
'Mmm,' he considered, 'But it's so fun . . . '  
  
I ditched a cushion at him, but it went straight through him. He blinked, looking very disturbed for a second, but then shrugged it off and stuck out his tongue. 'Ha. Beat ya.'  
  
I gave him my cutest "pissed off" face. 'What do you want?'  
  
He looked highly affronted. 'I have to have a reason for coming to visit my little pumpkin?'  
  
I flushed red. 'Dad, don't call me that!'  
  
He beamed at me playfully. 'Why? Too old?'  
  
'Yeah,' I snapped. 'I'm way old now. I'm not six anymore, if you noticed.'  
  
He didn't answer, only stared at me wistfully. 'Oh, Suze,' he said, looking all, you know, soppy. 'You've grown up so fast, sweetie. Too fast, even.'  
  
'And the jollity award goes to . . . ' I muttered.  
  
He shook his head at me, not smiling. 'Come here,' he said slowly, holding his arms open.  
  
'Aw, Dad,' I groaned.  
  
'What?' he demanded. 'You're too old for a hug? Get your tooshie here, young lady.'  
  
I rolled my eyes dramatically, and slumped over to him, slipping my arms around his shoulders.  
  
He breathed into my hair. 'No matter how old you are, Suze, you'll always be my special little baby. You're growing into a beautiful young woman, and I'm so proud of you . . . ' He hugged my tightly.  
  
Everything bad just melded all of a sudden . . . everything would be fine.  
  
I had Dad.  
  
~*~  
  
Young girl, don't cry  
  
I'll be right here when your world starts to fall  
  
Young girl, it's all right  
  
Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly  
- Christina Aguliera  
  
~*~  
  
As mortifying as it was, it was really nice to be held my someone who loved me so much. Even if it was just fatherly love.  
  
Throwing all embarrassment to the wind, I smiled sweetly into his shoulder. 'I love you too, dad.'  
  
He let go of me slowly, and held me in front of him. 'Suze, you're going to be something really special when you get older.'  
  
'What? Not another cryptic ghost message,' I pursed my lips. I'm so sick of those –'  
  
'No, this isn't a cryptic ghost message,' he smiled knowingly. 'This is just something I know. As your father.'  
  
I blinked at him. 'Uh . . . thanks.'  
  
He chuckled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from my eyes. 'Good luck, kiddo,' he said, leant forward, and kissed my lightly on my forehead.  
  
I loved him so much, under all his irresponsibility.  
  
'Dad, I –' I began, but he'd dematerialized, with the word "pumpkin."  
  
He was gone.  
  
*End of flashback.*  
  
Yeah, that's right. He was gone . . .  
  
Gone forever.  
  
~*~  
  
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears  
  
I held your hand through all of these years  
  
But you still have  
  
All of me  
- Evanescence  
  
~*~  
  
I picked myself up from the stone grave, sniffling a little. It was so hard. He really was gone. Now I felt like I'd really lost my father. Because I had.  
  
I'd lost him to Paul.  
  
Paul Eat-me Slater.  
  
He was going to hell . . .  
  
But still. It was so scary. So illogical. After everything that he'd done, said . . . Everything . . . I still knew that I didn't have the courage to exorcise him.  
  
I knew it deep in the caverns of my heart. There was something there that wouldn't let me do it. Grrr, damn heart . . .  
  
Well, at least I had one.  
  
Looking around, I saw that the gravestones stretched on for ages. So many. So many people, dead. Gone forever, to those without the mediator ability.  
  
But even then, not everyone came back as a ghost.  
  
Had I been lucky?  
  
Had – Crap! I'd forgotten about Timothy! I –  
  
'Suze? Uh, Suze?'  
  
I stopped, and turned. The little tike himself was standing beside a gravestone.  
  
The poor thing was shaking.  
  
'Oh, thank God!' I praised, and swept him into a tight hug. 'I was scared that Paul – you know, that guy who killed Spike – that he would come after you.'  
  
'But Suze, he did,' Timothy whined.  
  
I went cold.  
  
'He did?'  
  
'Yeah. And he told me that he's going to give you to someone!'  
  
Huh?  
  
'What do you mean, Timmy?' I asked in confusion.  
  
'I don't know . . . ' The little guy was starting to tear. 'He said that he was going to give you to someone, because the bad person was after him, and they wanted you. He said the person was after "shitters."'  
  
I blinked.  
  
Then I cracked up.  
  
Come on! It was just so cute! He was being so serious, and then that! Maybe I was just laughing in the grief as well. I don't know. I really don't know . . .  
  
Timothy glared at me. 'It's not funny, Suze! He chased me, and he almost hurt me.'  
  
I stopped laughing.  
  
'Hurt you?' I asked, twitching strangely. Paul . . . he was trying to attack Timothy now? He sent my Dad to hell – and – and . . . and now he tried to attack TIMOTHY?!  
  
This was too much.  
  
I started to panic. My Dad, he was bad enough. He was the only father I had. Andy was . . . well, Andy. But Dad . . .  
  
And now after Dad, Paul was GOING AFTER TIMOTHY.  
  
This wasn't on. No, not on . . .  
  
'Father Dom!' I yelled out loud. 'Father Dom, get here!'  
  
From the mausoleum, Father D came running. 'Sorry, I was just inspecting the damage. It will cost a lot to repair, Susannah. You really couldn't have taken your struggle with Paul elsewhere, couldn't – oh hello now,' he smiled, catching sight of Timothy in my arms.  
  
I rolled my eyes. 'Father D, I need you to take Timmy here to the Rectory. Paul, he's after him.'  
  
Father Dom went pale. 'Good Lord,' he said solemnly, swallowing hard. 'He's after a child . . . '  
  
'Hey,' snapped Tim. 'Speak for yourself.'  
  
We both stared for him.  
  
I mean . . . weird.  
  
Father Dom was about as far away from a child as you could get.  
  
You know, with the wrinkles, and . . . and the wrinkles? But yeah.  
  
The priest before me nodded, and took Timothy from me. 'Don't worry, Susannah,' he said, 'I will keep him safe. Oh!' he cried, making Timothy jump. 'I just remembered, Susannah. An old man I am . . . Jesse contacted me this morning, he said something that his uncle was sick and he needed to go back.'  
  
B-b-back? Now?!  
  
My mouth kinda fell open.  
  
'You're kidding,' I said with a dry smile.  
  
'I'm afraid I'm not, er, kidding,' he replied.  
  
'Jesse,' murmured Timmy. 'He's that Chinese guy from before, isn't he?'  
  
I shot Tim a weird look. 'Chinese?'  
  
Tim looked oblivious. 'What? He wasn't American,' he said defensively.  
  
Oh God. This kid had a lot to learn about culture.  
  
'Jesse is Latino,' I said kindly. 'It means he's Spanish, but Californian at the same time.'  
  
'Spanish? Like, the people of the Spanish soap operas that my mum used to watch all the time?' he asked hopefully, his eyes bright.  
  
'Uh, yeah,' I said slowly.  
  
'Susannah,' Father Dom drew my attention back to him, 'What are you going to do about Paul? Oh, I do wish that you would tell me more about him. It would help a lot more.'  
  
Tell him more? About what? Huh?  
  
'What's to tell? I don't like him or anything,' I gushed, 'I don't like him a bit. Just because he was the first guy to eve kiss me, that doesn't mean that I have a soft spot for him. If I could exorcise him I SO would, no soft spots here, no liking Paul. Paul is bad, but still has really great abs – not that I know! I've never known –'  
  
'Cool . . . she talks fast,' Timmy grinned. 'Like my sister when she's really guilty about something. Are you guilty, Suze?'  
  
I gulped. 'Me guilt? Nope, I'm so guilt free, I could – um . . . what's a good thing to do when you're guilt free? I need to finish my pun,' I babbled on –  
  
'Susannah!' snapped Father Dom, holding onto Timmy tighter. 'Go back to class. It's bad enough that you spend so much time in my office talking about mediating without you being chased by a crazed ghostly killer.'  
  
'What? Well, it's just as bad as algebra –'  
  
'How?'  
  
'Uh . . . both inspire a terror in my heart?' I suggested.  
  
He smiled faintly. 'That, I guess I can understand.'  
  
Oh! Oh, a thought!  
  
'Padre,' I said quickly, 'Uh, that Red Lady, has she visited you?' I asked apprehensively.  
  
'No, I'm afraid not.'  
  
'Oh. Well, maybe if you –'  
  
'Susannah, I believe that you should be in class now.'  
  
'I hate grown-up talk.'  
  
'Shut up, Timothy. Father D, I'm really not missing much, just a bunch of random letters that have the nerve to think that they can replace numbers in the affections of mathematicians everywhere –'  
  
'Go.'  
  
'Oh, all right. Don't get your habit all twisted,' I huffed, walking back towards the Mission. Well, to the showers, in any case.  
  
Because dude, I reeked.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Uh . . . I don't know why that was so long. Okay, things are going to get a lot better next chapter, let me tell you . . . trust me, you'll like it . . .  
  
Enter Querida Andres.  
  
And Jesse/Suze fluff, I think.  
  
. . . But you're not getting it until you review! So blah! REVIEW OR NO CHAPTER!!!  
  
Muahahaha!  
  
Sorry . . . I just really love reviews.  
  
Please, comment on anything in the chapter that you like. Ask questions, uh, flames (actually, maybe not . . . ) criticize, anything. Just review! Okay, love you all SO much!  
  
Regards, MystAngel.  
  
REVIEW!!!!! 


	16. Just a Little Lust

WARNING: This sequel may be a couple of chapters longer than TW, but then again, look at the Harry Potter books? It gets longer with each book. So you can't sue me. And speaking of Twisted World, all's well now. Full credits for the return of the chapter go to my darling best friend, Lindzi. I am now her servant for life. Well, not really . . . but it sounded good.  
  
But serious, Linnie. Thank you so much. I was totally freaked that I'd lost it completely.  
  
Everybody? Say "thank you Linnie."  
  
All together now: "Thank you Linnie."  
  
That's nice.  
  
Now that's enough of Lindzi *Lindzi attacks Lolly with a (ironically enough) Harry Potter OrdPhoe book* OW! I mean, uh, Lindzi has been thanked, let's move onto more important stuff – OW!  
  
*Lolly's screams of pain fade into the distance as the mellifluous voice in your head begins to read you another installment of Addicted . . .*  
  
**************************************************************************** ********************  
  
How bad is my luck? No, I'm so serious. What is up with all this heinous misfortune that is plaguing me like . . . well, the plague? Is it right? I mean, there is no justice in anything that's happening to me. Because, let's be fair, people . . .  
  
My hair STINKS!  
  
It is SO gross! It has this dead smell to it! It's awful and putrid and – currently, bushy! Paul has messed up my hair. He is officially going down.  
  
. . . You know, I hate it when people say "going down" in that context. It's wrong. I mean, if I said that to Paul, he'd get excited. No, I'm serious. It's criminal! He is the sickest, grossest, most evil, cruellest, hottest ghost that I have ever met!!  
  
Uh . . .  
  
Ha ha.  
  
Ha . . .  
  
Hmmm, that "hottest" bit? Yeah, that kind of, um, just slipped out. Completely ignore that. That was an accident. Paul is so not –  
  
WELL CAN YOU BLAME ME?!  
  
No, serious! Despite the whole evil mannerism, when he's not butchering alien cats, sending guiltless ghosts to the Gate Keeper, and – and, uh, trapping, um, innocent little girls in dead, smelly coffins with dead, smelly corpses, Paul has a tendency to appear slightly appealing to the eyes of . . .  
  
Oh, forget the cover up.  
  
Paul Slater is hot.  
  
I know! I should be SHOT! Daydreaming about the enemy is enough to earn me capital punishment, right? Someone, please tell me I'm on excessive amounts of crack? I mean, I know that I have Jesse! I KNOW that! Jesse De Silva is THE pinnacle of sizzle. But Paul . . . well, oh I dunno. It's just that, well, Jesse's so perfect, that it kind of makes you reflect on your flaws too much. Everything about him is so magical. Every aspect is of him is just faultless. He's your stereotypical Prince Charming.  
  
And if you know what I mean, Prince Charming can get a little . . .  
  
Well, uh, too perfect.  
  
Oh my God.  
  
Did I just . . . did I just say that?  
  
Oh, no, I didn't mean that. I love Jesse! I really do! It's just, well, I just feel so inferior to him. He's like, a god or something, and me, I'm just Suze Simon. His apparent knowledge in the art of shifting, it's like, I could never know anything as great as that. I could never measure up to him. He's this beautiful person, with those deep, black eyes and the ultimate tan, and the thick black hair that curls into the back of his head so naturally, and the deep Spanish lilted voice that makes my skin go all tingly . . .  
  
All of that. He has all of that going for him. What room is there for me after all THAT? I'm like, a kid to him. Taking away the fact that he's a guy and I'm a chick, can you see, in scale, that he's 10/10, and I'm like, oh, I dunno . . .  
  
At most, a two.  
  
I'm no being pessimistic. I'm being way realistic. The way that Jesse makes me feel when I'm around him, well, it only barely compensates what I feel when he's not around. The introversion, thinking about how low I am, well, it hurts. It hurts a lot. I don't even know why he even likes me. I'm just Suze.  
  
Just Suze . . .  
  
So what was Paul's excuse, then?  
  
Well, with Paul, it was different. I was above Paul, both literally and in distinction. He was a ghost, and I was alive. I knew in my heart that I was a good person, whereas he, obviously, was not.  
  
But that sense of deficiency, you know, imperfection, it was kind of . . . well, what I wanted. It was like, I didn't have to try to be perfect. I could just let go, and be whoever I wanted to be. Jesse, he thought that it was "cute" when I said something blonde. That was not a good thing. The fact that Jesse brings out the blondness in me, I mean. Paul, the only side I had shown him was my fearful side. He knew that he had control over me in some regard. He was purely evil. I couldn't think of anything good he'd ever done for me, and anything that had been slightly moral had been justified with an act of impiety. Example, when he did my homework for me. Remember that little fiasco? With Mr Osbourne? That landed me in DETENTION?  
  
All because of that really, really gross picture . . .  
  
Um, EW.  
  
But you see what I mean?  
  
. . . Yet, past all that, he knew as well as I did that I had some kind of control over him. He was obsessed with me. I don't know why. I really don't. Frankly, it's disgusting. I'm not worth obsessing over, to be realistic. But Paul's as twisted as the next Bellevue resident. So yeah, he's screwy, he has that reason to a certain extent. But Paul, he's not insane. He knows what he's doing. He plans, even though he's impulsive. He watches, and waits, and is careful about what he does.  
  
He's clever, basically.  
  
Just in one of the most cold-blooded ways that I have ever known.  
  
But he did have something there that was reserved just for me. A fixation. Like, I was a conquest or something. I am a strong person, not just physically, but with my willpower. I'm very stubborn, I know that. I can hold back on things that I really, really want. Is that why he liked me? To know that somehow, he would be able to break me? Like, make me fall for him? Well, as if. Paul is . . .  
  
I don't know anymore.  
  
There's something there. I can't explain it. It's inside of me. It makes me want him, so bad. I don't want to, but I do. I cant help it. I feel something for him that I wish, with all my heart, not to be there. It's an emotion that cannot be named. Or tamed, for that matter.  
  
And it's always there.  
  
Even when I'm with Jesse . . .  
  
~*~  
  
After I'd had a shower in the girls' change rooms, I – grudgingly but desperately – stole a spare "Juniperro Serra Mission" jersey from the clean laundry pile, the smallest that I could find that wasn't a kindergarten size, and a little pair of shorts that some chic. They weren't even cute, but I was desperate. Hey, fashion challenged is way better than being evil on the nose. I mean . . . ew . . .  
  
I hate Paul.  
  
And yet . . . Okay, someone can have my full and willing permission to exterminate me. I am a bug and I need to be squashed. I'm sinning against mankind. Why couldn't these stupid feelings stop? I wasn't in love with him, or anything. God no! I loved Jesse with all my heart! Despite any negative affects he had on me. I didn't love Paul! Or like him! Just . . . I felt this absurd attraction. It meant nothing. I mean, it was just a little lust.  
  
Right?  
  
There wasn't anything wrong with that! Lust is a crappy, insignificant thing that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. But . . . oh God . . . Lust was like, a sensual appetite, regarded as sinful, according to the dictionary. Yeah. Okay, so I'd been thinking about this. A lot. So much that I went to the dictionary.  
  
Okay, and Doc.  
  
That was embarrassing.  
  
'You want to know about lust, Suze? Well, that's perfectly understandable. Lust, of course, can occur at all ages between all people, but is most common between people who are considered very attractive, like y – um, well, most people say that, er, Kelly Prescott, or something like that, is very beautiful. Not me though. But yes, someone like Kelly Prescott would feel great lust for a person of the opposite sex. She –'  
  
'Can we stop talking about Kelly? She gives me the wig.'  
  
'Er, okay.'  
  
'Thanks.'  
  
'Well, a woman would feel a strong sexual desire for this person. Hopefully a male. While it is not medically more dangerous for same sex couples to have intercourse, I do not approve. I think that it is –'  
  
'Off track much?'  
  
'Sorry.'  
  
'Fine.'  
  
'But yes. Lust. It is, as a matter of fact, one of the more insignificant of the seven deadly sins. It has happened all through history, and has been the downfall of many men and women. It isn't love, although, some people wish it to be –'  
  
'Does it mean anything?'  
  
'Yes, it means a lot. It has to do with the visual hunger for –'  
  
'Uh, I mean, is it a bad thing?'  
  
'Lust? Well, in the Catholic sense, of course. It's a terrible sin. It's horrible, and evil, especially amongst women.'  
  
'Joy.'  
  
'It can be degrading to a woman, and can corrupt her thoughts and purity and –'  
  
'I think we have had enough chat.'  
  
Wow, that kid can be depressing . . .  
  
I was walking down the hall, back to my locker to proceed with my schooling – it was just after recess – when I bumped into Kelly.  
  
'Oh, uh, hey Suze,' she chirped, pasting an unnatural – or surgically enhanced – smile on her perfectly painted face. Her eyeliner enhanced the grey-blueness of her eyes, and her cheeks were so shiny it was annoying.  
  
'Hi,' I muttered, trying to step around her, but she stepped in my way again.  
  
'Whoa, Suze,' she said, her eyebrows coming together in a "what the hell is the matter with you?" expression, 'You look bad.'  
  
'Sick?'  
  
'No, just in general bad.'  
  
'Thanks.'  
  
'But now that you mention it, yeah, sick. Did you sleep last night? Because that mascara looks like it's been on since the Ice Age.'  
  
'Oh, you remembered a small, insignificant part of history. The teachers would be proud,' I said boredly.  
  
'Suze,' she said, looking very sympathetic. 'I am not the person to do this. In fact, I've never done it before. But I have a soft spot in my heart for pathetic people. I do. So, if you want, you can borrow some of my clothes, okay? Nothing Prada, because, well, knowing you, you might wreck it. And nothing black. It'll get dirty too easily. And nothing . . . '  
  
She went on and on for a long time about all of these conditions that I didn't give a shit about. But then, hey . . . She was right. I did look like a dag. Since when should I let my job as a mediator . . . or, shifter . . . get in the way of my public face? What gave Paul the right to rob me of my fashion status?  
  
'Kelly, just give me whatever,' I said, 'And how much clothes do you keep at school?'  
  
'Well,' she winced, 'Ever since that food fight that your little friends, I believe, started, and I got a pie on my . . . well, that was ages ago,' she said, getting redder and redder. Yeah, I remembered. Kelly's ass got pied. That as so funny.  
  
Ironically, that was the day that I set eyes on Jesse.  
  
~*~  
  
Five minutes later, I was checking myself out in the ladies' dunny mirror. Kelly's clothes weren't scabby. They really weren't. Not that I expected them to be, but yeah. It was not a good thing that I was borrowing them in the first place, but I needed to get out of that jersey, people. It was maroon!  
  
And YELLOW.  
  
I had on these cute little white slacks – I unfortunately didn't know of the label – and a plaid baby blue and white shirt that buttoned up. It was a really adorable. I looked totally innocent. Like a little blue flower! With . . . a white stem . . . and no leaves . . . and some weird brown stuff spouting from the top . . .  
  
Okay, so I'm no floral design. Don't tease me!  
  
Rolling my eyes, I followed Kelly to the Student Council meeting that she said we now had. Interesting, I was just dreading about going to English, and this pops up. God is rewarding my hard labour, at last. Even if it's something as tiny and insignificant as that . . . it's a start.  
  
~*~  
  
The Student Council was a wash. All they talked about was the issue of reintroducing uniform again. Uh, WRONG. It was probably a good thing that I'd changed out of what I'd been wearing before, you know, with the Mission jersey and the sports shorts? Otherwise, God forbid, it might have looked like I . . . I supported it?  
  
Oh, good God have mercy!  
  
I mean, you should have seen what they were presenting to the Council as an alternative to free dress all year round. There were these maroon SKIRTS, which were, may I mention, BELOW THE KNEES for the girls, and BELOW THE KNEE SHORTS for the guys, and matching tops.  
  
But that's not the worst.  
  
They were . . . maroon.  
  
Frankly? I WOULD RATHER BE RESUSCITATED BY FATHER DOMINIC AGAIN THAN WEAR THOSE THINGS.  
  
And not forgetting the yellow ties.  
  
Oh, yes.  
  
Well, Sister Gladys, who was forwarding this idea of uniform, saying that we were far too emancipated and wild and needed uniform to discipline us, was overthrown.  
  
So much so that when I suggested that the clothes should be burnt, it was seconded.  
  
And thirded.  
  
And fourthed  
  
And fifthed.  
  
And I am aware that they are not even words.  
  
But it was that bad.  
  
Even the teachers agreed.  
  
It was unanimous.  
  
Sister Gladys was pretty pissed.  
  
Now THAT'S religion.  
  
Amen.  
  
Kelly, of course, wasn't too interested in the meeting. I mean, you think that she would have, seeing that her fashion liberty was at stake. But no. She was too busy making eyes at Aleks Nicholas, a twelfth grader whose good looks almost made up for the fact that he was kind of ninety-five cents short of a dollar.  
  
Almost, I say.  
  
It was way annoying. They kept mouthing messages to each other from across the grade tables.  
  
Joy.  
  
It was about when Aleks began wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and poking his tongue out in this non-joking way, if you know what I mean, well, I kind of turned away.  
  
Very abruptly.  
  
Why exactly do I do this again?  
  
I sighed. It was now after school. CeeCee and Adam and I had planned to mean at Adam's for a movie bash. You know, Buffy, Charmed, Simpsons, watching Titanic and picking it to pieces and point out that bit where someone was supposedly wearing a digital watch even thought it was supposed to be a movie where everyone was supposedly from 1912. Yeah, and all that jazz . . .  
  
Supposedly.  
  
Hehehe . . .  
  
But yeah. Adam drove us to his house. I'd never been there before. CeeCee said that she had before, but it hadn't been very exciting, she'' reported. I had a feeling that the only excitement that CeeCee wanted to have at Adam's house had nothing to do with movie marathons.  
  
If you catch my drift, hmm?  
  
I'm evil. Muah!  
  
Yeah, but Adam was very smoothly spinning the steering wheel of his little V8 bug. He'd just gotten his permit, and was totally enthused about the whole thing. Driving, I mean. He was repeatedly asking "You want a lift?" even when CeeCee said that she was going to the loo, or something. It was kind of becoming force of habit now.  
  
Man, that guy needs a girlfriend.  
  
Mmm . . . anyway.  
  
'So, ladies, shall we make a stop before we arrive at my mansion, which looks suspiciously like a trash can . . . but it's nice and roomy inside, I swear,' he assured us with goofy grin. He flexed his fingers over the steering wheel.  
  
I smiled. 'I'm sure.'  
  
'Better believe it,' he scowled, turning a corner so sharply I had to grab hold of the side door. I was in the passenger seat. He'd insisted I sit there. Don't know why. 'We could of course all just bum around in, oh I dunno, my hot tub where, oh, I dunno, bikinis are required?'  
  
'You in a bikini, McTavish?' CeeCee gagged, 'Oh God, the visuals are too much!'  
  
Adam swelled in bogus outrage. 'Leave my drag career out of this!' he said in mock indignation, 'Why do you insult me, woman?!'  
  
'For the sheer fun and joy of it,' CeeCee smiled dreamily. I knew, I was watching her very carefully in my mirror. She was staring at Adam in much the same manner. You know, dreamily. But she kind of quit it when she saw me grinning at her like a maniac.  
  
'Shut up,' she mouthed at me, glaring good-naturedly with gleaming violet irises. I only saw a rectangle of her face, which barely squashed her eyes, nose and mouth in.  
  
Adam turned to me.  
  
'So what do you say, Simon?' he smiled toothily, and winked, 'You up for a little splash in my spa?'  
  
I stared.  
  
And stared.  
  
'Adam,' I said, 'You have no idea how wrong that just sounded,' I wrinkled my nose.  
  
His eyes sparkled puckishly. 'Wrong you are, my lady. I know EXACTLY how wrong that sounded.  
  
CeeCee stylishly slid across the back seat and thumped Adam one on the head.  
  
'Ow! Hey, I'm driving here!' he snapped.  
  
'Oooh, poor baby,' I lulled in a mothering voice, 'Did she affect you brain?'  
  
Adam smirked evilly, watching the road ahead carefully. 'Not the one that matters, Suze.'  
  
It took a few seconds to realize how gross he was being. But I got it in the end.  
  
'Ew!' I whined.  
  
CeeCee whacked him again.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'll never let go, Jack," Kate Winslet promised dramatically, clinging to a frozen Leo DiCaprio.  
  
And then she let go.  
  
'What the hell was that?' Adam demanded through a thick mouthful of chips. 'She's like, "Won't let go!" and then she does.'  
  
'Rose is a hypocrite,' CeeCee stated.  
  
Was I the only one that got this?  
  
'No,' I explained, 'She's saying that she won't let go of, like, her love for him. You know, she'll remember the time they spent together.'  
  
'They had sex,' Adam grinned, 'Bit hard to forget something like that.'  
  
'You think too much, Simon,' CeeCee groaned. 'Watch the movie and point and laugh when someone dies like you're supposed to.'  
  
'Yeah, and pretend to puke when Rose's cape slips off to show her boobs like genius here did?' I asked, jabbing Adam with my thumb in nausea, 'I'll pass.'  
  
'You're too mature,' Adam said down at me. He was lying on his queen bed over his pillows, with CeeCee draped over his knees, and me on the floor. I know, it was a little weird, but I managed. CeeCee sighed pleasantly. I could tell that she wasn't minding her location at all.  
  
We watched in silence, right up to the bit where old Rose threw the "Heart of the Ocean" jewel over the railing.  
  
'Oh my GOD!' Adam yelled, sitting up so fast that CeeCee was thrown backwards. 'She threw something like that AWAY! She is such a numb nut! She could have sold it to make heaps! I do not want her as my grandma if she's going to do all that sentimental head case stuff and throw away perfectly nice blue diamonds into oceans like that –'  
  
'Adam, shut up,' I groaned, stuffing a handful of popcorn into my mouth. 'You think to much.'  
  
'No, he talks too much,' CeeCee said. 'He doesn't think at all. It just . . . comes. From where, I don't know.'  
  
'From his second brain,' I smiled at her.  
  
She laughed, changed the video, and then repositioned herself over Adam's knees, who was looking confused that we were laughing at his expense.  
  
'Pass a cupcake?' CeeCee asked me politely, motioning to the tray of desserts that Adam had picked up on the way home. I chuckled, and passed her a teeny one.  
  
'You gave me the runt!' she cried crossly, 'It's too small!'  
  
'Size doesn't matter,' I said accidentally.  
  
They both looked at me, and started majorly cracking up.  
  
Huh?  
  
'What?' I asked, 'It's better if it's bite size, isn't it?'  
  
CeeCee hooted shrilly and fell of the bed, shaking madly. Adam was leaning heavily against bedpost, emitting raucous roars of laughter.  
  
'What?' I repeated unsophisticatedly. 'It's just a cupcake, guys.'  
  
Hang on . . . size doesn't . . .  
  
Oh.  
  
'Oh, God,' I said in disgust with myself. 'I am so blond. In a non-blond way, I mean. It's the clothes. Kelly's blondness possesses me. Blame the clothes.'  
  
They only laughed harder.  
  
Joy.  
  
The credits for Buffy rolled on. It was an episode called "Intervention," where Spike got some nerd to build a robot Buffy. For, um, something that wasn't chess. When the BuffyBot was talking to Willow, we all started laughing. (A/N: This is from memory, don't kill me?)  
  
"Buffy, did you sleep with Spike?" Willow asked worriedly.  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh good."  
  
"No, I had sex with Spike," BuffyBot beamed.  
  
Willow looked sick.  
  
"In lots of different ways . . . I can draw diagrams?" BuffyBot said.  
  
We snorted. It was about then that CeeCee gave Adam a furtive look, before looking at me. 'Isn't Spike so hot?' she asked with a smile.  
  
Adam grinned. 'Yeah,' he breathed, 'He's so sexy. Really. I'm not gay, I'm not.'  
  
'Could have fooled me,' I muttered, and CeeCee sniggered. Now Adam was looking offended. 'I'm not gay, Suze,' he said. 'I'm really not.'  
  
I blinked. 'I know that.'  
  
'No,' he insisted, 'You think I am. I play for the hetero team, I swear.'  
  
CeeCee sat up and faced him boredly. 'Mac, she knows that you're straight. Leave it.'  
  
'You believe me, don't you Cee?' he said with wounded eyes. Now he was just mucking around.  
  
'Yeah –'  
  
'No,' I said, struck with a sudden idea. It was stupid, and CeeCee would kill me, but I didn't care. 'Adam, you're as gay as Carson from Queer Eye.'  
  
His offense became genuine again. 'I am not, Suze!'  
  
'Prove it,' I hissed.  
  
'How?'  
  
'Give CeeCee a kiss, and tell me how it feels.'  
  
Both of them stared at me. CeeCee's eyes were wide and accusing. Adam looked appalled. I thought I'd blown it, but then he snapped.  
  
'Fine!' he shouted, 'I will.'  
  
And with that, he grabbed CeeCee's shoulders, and pulled her into a deep, celestial lookin' kiss.  
  
I smiled smugly, but then raised my eyebrows. Um, okay . . . how much was he trying to convince me?  
  
After about thirty seconds, Adam seceded, slowly and tenderly. His lips met hers a little still. CeeCee was breathing very fast, staring into his eyes absorbedly. Adam returned her gaze with one of shock and bewilderment. He still gripped her shoulders ardently. A spell seemed to have them locked in a separate, magical world.  
  
'Oh my God,' CeeCee gasped quietly.  
  
I gawked. 'Whoa. Maybe I should leave the room,' I teased.  
  
Oops, I'd broken the spell.  
  
Adam dropped CeeCee, so she fell back against the mattress. Her face was blank, and she looked very flushed. Adam kept coughing for some reason.  
  
'See? I'm not gay,' he averred. Traces of a grin were creeping over his lips. CeeCee still looked stunned.  
  
'Yeah, I registered that,' I smirked.  
  
Oh, nicely done, Suze!  
  
Adam, looking a little reluctant, turned to CeeCee. 'Sorry, Spider. Got a little carried away there,' he sniggered, but there was a nervousness in his laughter now.  
  
CeeCee followed suit, giggling anxiously. 'Yeah, I noticed.'  
  
Cee, giggling?  
  
What next, an apocalypse?  
  
Then Adam totally destroyed all my work. 'Sorry about that. Don't get the wrong idea, ha.'  
  
CeeCee's face fell very softly. 'Uh, no.' She laughed, but an echo of disappointment could be heard and felt it. 'I knew that.'  
  
Only she wished she didn't.  
  
Adam coughed. 'Oh, look,' he said, pointing at the screen. 'Fire. Isn't' that funny? Ha. Fire is always funny. It's so hot, and red, and, um, funny –'  
  
I stared at him. How thick was he?! I had seen him while he was kissing her! He was totally into her, and now he was acting like it was a big mistake!  
  
The dirty scum!  
  
CeeCee shrugged at me. 'Oh well,' she whispered, 'It was a nice experience, even if it was just to prove that he wasn't a fag.'  
  
I settled down on my butt again on the floor. Cee and Adam were now sitting on opposite sides of the bed – Adam over the pillows, and CeeCee at the foot. Oh, great. I'd made it worse. I didn't mean to. I mean, I thought that they'd both realized how stupid they were being.  
  
But Adam's just a thick head.  
  
I pouted as the end credits rolled by. Now I was feeling really depressed. And by then, all the cakes had gone. And the chips, courtesy of Adam, of course. He'd scoffed the lot.  
  
I just kept thinking about everything. How guilty I was feeling . . . Paul, Jesse, Timothy, my Dad . . .  
  
Oh, God, Dad. Where did he send you?  
  
After a while, CeeCee noticed my silence.  
  
'Suze, what's up?'  
  
I blinked out of my thoughts. 'Huh? Oh . . .uh, nothing.'  
  
Adam pressed a button on the remote and the TV switched off. 'Is it Paul?' he asked confidently, thinking that CeeCee didn't have a clue what he was on about.  
  
Only she did.  
  
'He knows about Paul?!' she squeaked. 'How does he – '  
  
'What? Did you tell her as well –'  
  
I held up my hands, and stood up. 'I forgot, you both know about him, don't you?'  
  
'Obviously,' CeeCee said, giving Adam a weird look.  
  
Adam grimaced. 'So I'm not the "Secret" guy anymore? Am I not confidential enough for your –'  
  
'No, Adam. CeeCee, well, she's kind of . . . uh . . . '  
  
'Met him,' Cee finished, all business-like. No, as if she'd rather forget it. I stared at her distractedly. Something twigged in my memory.  
  
'That's right,' I said slowly, 'You were the one that found me after I'd been bitten . . . uh,' CeeCee shot Adam a warning glance. 'By the . . . um, spider. Yeah. Big, hairy spider. Lots of venom,' I nodded thoroughly.  
  
Cee snorted. 'That's what you kids call it these days?'  
  
Adam looked very put out. 'CeeCee knew about all of this, and not me?' he said, sounding injured.  
  
'Well, CeeCee doesn't know about that time with Heather and Bryce, if that makes you feel better,' I said to him.  
  
Adam went to retort, but bit back on it. 'Oh. Okay then.'  
  
Now CeeCee looked affronted. 'Suze? What have you been keeping from us? This isn't fair that you're not being open with us about this thing. We both know that you can talk to ghosts – ' she looked at Adam, 'He knows that bit, right?'  
  
'I certainly do now,' Adam said moodily, crossing his arms.  
  
'Of course he does,' I sighed, getting cheesed off.  
  
(A/N: Mmm . . . cheese . . .)  
  
She continued. 'Well, so what's the problem? Why are you hiding everything? It's not as if we're going to tell, Suze. We believe you. I kind of have to, because – well – I've experienced one first hand. Twice, now. And he's a dickhead. A dangerous one. So if you've got people like that after you, you need help.'  
  
'No I don't!' I shouted angrily. Why did people think I couldn't take care of myself?! 'If you try to help, you'll only end up getting hurt! Look what he did to my Dad just –'  
  
I stopped talking very quickly, and turned away.  
  
Did they notice? Did they hear?  
  
You betcha.  
  
CeeCee's gentle voice laced my ears. 'Suze,' she said softly, 'Tell us what happened.'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Yeah,' Adam butted in. 'You've intrigued us now.'  
  
Was he sick? Intrigue? God . . . 'This matter is nothing "intriguing" Adam. Paul did something very cruel to my Dad. My Dad was a ghost, up until apparently this morning. And then Paul got into him, and now Dad's . . . just not there anymore,' I finished feebly, staring very stubbornly at a trophy on Adam's desk.  
  
Oh God. Why did I even tell them? Great, now they were going to feel sorry for me. . .  
  
'Oh, Suze, I'm so sorry,' CeeCee said sympathetically.  
  
'No, just shut up about it!' I yelled, turning to the both of them. 'Don't ask me anymore about what I have to do as a mediator. Okay? It's none of your business. It's my problem, and I'm not involving you!'  
  
'I'm already involved,' CeeCee pointed out dryly, 'He's attacked me twice now, Suze.'  
  
'Yeah, Simon,' Adam glared, 'Stop hogging the magical powers. Just because you were born with them, it doesn't mean we can't do anything to help as well. If just to keep you bloody alive, you crazy freak,' he said firmly. He touched my arm. 'Now be sane, and let us –'  
  
'Don't!' I said. 'You really have no idea what you're messing with! This isn't some TV show like Buffy, where someone does all the clever research, and someone else helps the Slayer. Heck, I don't even get trained. Sure, some of these ghosts are sweet as pie,' I raged, in reference to Timmy, 'But the others, like Paul, they're only out to kill, and are more than capable of it. You realized that he murdered Bryce Martinsen? And a whole list of others. Cee, he could have killed you if he wanted to! You don't get any of this! It isn't a game. There's no second chance draws. Paul, he's out to kill. If you get in his way, he'll make you move. And it's you two that I'm worried about at the moment. He's doing everything he can to hurt me, and if he comes after either of you – ' my throat refused to talk any longer. I stared at the both of them. Through the course of this little speech, I'd been turning into an emotional wreck. I wasn't crying, but I felt that my eyes were wet.  
  
Damn.  
  
Both of them were staring at me with grave faces.  
  
I shook my head, and turned away from the pair of them, going to stand by Adam's little window. His whole room was dark green, with a black bed covers and furniture. Green.  
  
My eyes were green.  
  
I breathed heavily, glaring at the green paint intensely.  
  
'Suze,' Adam said carefully, 'Do you wanna go to a party tomorrow night?'  
  
I blinked, and turned back. 'What?'  
  
'A party, yeah!' CeeCee said a little too enthusiastically. 'That's a great idea! We can, you know, forget about things like, um, this, and just have fun and relax.'  
  
I thought about it. You know, a party sounded like the answer to my prayers. Loud music that drained my mind of thought . . .  
  
'Okay,' I said. 'Your parents won't mind about it being a school night?'  
  
'Who said our parents have to know?' Adam grinned naughtily. 'I heard there's one at this guy's house tomorrow. We can go crash there for a few hours and lose it there.'  
  
I nodded wistfully. 'Yeah . . . yeah. Done. We're going.'  
  
Adam beamed. 'I did something right?'  
  
'No. You just suggested it.'  
  
'Ha ha, Adam,' CeeCee taunted.  
  
Adam flushed. 'Shut up, Funnel-Webb.'  
  
Revenge of the whacking . . .  
  
Maybe this party would clear my head. Get these stupid thoughts of Paul out of my head. About all the things he'd done, all the things he was going to do –  
  
And all the things I wanted him to do . . .  
  
God, please spare me. I'm possessed, I know. There's just, some part of me wants him so bad. It's a smaller part, but God, it's powerful. This feeling isn't moral, but I can't stop it. It's like it's taking over everything. I just hoped that it wouldn't make me do anything really stupid in the future . . .  
  
Like tell him how I felt.  
  
I mean, in was just a little lust, right?  
  
**************************************************************************** *******************  
  
Okay, I'm way tired now. Enjoy! Like I said, this story may be 2 or 3 chapters longer than Twisted World, but no biggie, right? And trust me, I know what I'm doing with this plot.  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!!! PLEASE!!!  
  
Regards, MystAngel. 


	17. Kiss

Okay, I've been thinking a lot lately. Maybe too much. I dunno, but I decided it was time that I actually wrote something again? With Seven and Deadly, I have a very mild writer's block, but I'll get over it. Hehehe. Nothing major. Okay, this bit was written before the chapter, so I'm not sure, but I'm hoping to make this chapter romantic and fluffy? We'll see . . .  
  
Btw, Manda, sorry, but you made me do the most predictable thing. Forgive me?  
  
"Never!" you say . . .  
  
It was offensive, what he did. The NERVE of him! To do that after so blatantly expressing his true feelings! After proclaiming his love in one sweeping, soul-claiming kiss!  
  
Translation?  
  
Adam dropped CeeCee off first.  
  
The DICKHEAD! He totally crushed her heart, you could so tell! CeeCee gave him a very wistful looks as he sped off from her house.  
  
I just stared at him.  
  
Only, after a while, he tended to notice me, mouth gaping and eyes appalled.  
  
'What?' he asked defensively, tooting on his little horn of the V8 Bug to move the traffic along.  
  
'You,' I pinpointed in disgust, 'dropped her off first.'  
  
He raised an eyebrow. 'Uh, yeah . . . That would be because she lives closest to me, and I'm an American teenage boy who just got a car, and is trying to save gas?' he said as if it were the obvious.  
  
'But – but –' I spluttered in outrage, 'It's not the point! You could have, well, dropped me off first!'  
  
'That would appear to be the only other option,' he drawled, 'But why would I do that? That would be rude of me. You might get pissed. You might exact revenge. That would be scary. And possible anatomically damaging. And contrary to popular school belief, I like my penis the way it is.'  
  
I blinked. 'Um, ew?'  
  
He sniggered at me. 'What?'  
  
I shook my head, turning back to face the window. The sun was setting, casting warm, orange rays across the sky. Our movie marathon hadn't lasted as long as we were hoping it would have, after the little stunt that Adam pulled. You know, the one where he decided to all of a sudden, pretend that that little snog hadn't happened.  
  
Yeah, that.  
  
'Adam,' I groaned, 'if you had have taken me home first, you could have talked to CeeCee.'  
  
'But –'  
  
'Alone,' I added for effect. 'Without me there.'  
  
He met my eyes briefly, looking puzzled. 'I gathered that. And why is this so important to you, Suze?'  
  
'Because – 'I began, but broke off. I couldn't do that again. Look how well they'd turned out last time? Last time being just this afternoon? I didn't want to push Adam into anything that he didn't want to do.  
  
God, damn! I knew what he wanted! He wanted my albino friend, and that was that! Why was he being such a dork? Why couldn't he see that he wanted CeeCee as much as she wanted him? DAMN, I hate it when people are too blind to see that they are in love with someone!!!  
  
(A/N: Yeah, Suze. Us readers really hate it too. Looks pointedly, and coughs, most suspiciously sounding like "Jesse.")  
  
I sighed, wringing my hands in frustration. Why couldn't my friends just see that they were perfect for each other? It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. I knew that CeeCee lived in Limbo, waiting for the day that Adam would notice how much she cared about him. But even after today, that day still looked a long way off.  
  
'Suze, I still don't get –'  
  
'If you're that stupid, you don't deserve to know,' I snapped at him.  
  
Suddenly, a very impulsive and very FOOLISH idea weaseled into my brain. I didn't even think about the consequence that was to come . . . 'You realize that Paul, this guy, has hurt CeeCee?'  
  
Adam delivered me with the very reaction that I'd been angling for. 'What?!' he demanded, whipping his head around to face me and jamming his foot on the break.  
  
A horn blared from behind, and Adam swiftly spun the wheel so we were pulled over on the side of the road, by the guardrail. We were over a small bridge, with beautiful orange-cerulean water that was reflecting the twilight sun dazzlingly. Adam was glaring at me, and through gritted teeth, he repeated, 'What did you say?'  
  
Biting back a satisfied smirk, I replied, 'Well, you did get the relevance of the word "attack" when Cee said that before, right? That Paul physically hurt her?'  
  
I saw Adam's face flush a dark red colour in a matter of seconds.  
  
'You're kidding,' he dissented, his hands getting very tight on the steering wheel. Oooh, this was exciting. Adam was getting possessive! Over CeeCee! Wasn't that cute?  
  
I tell you, it wasn't cute what he did later . . . But not to jump ahead.  
  
'No, I'm not,' I informed him, trying to hide the pleasure at seeing my work being so well received. What? Don't look at me like that, it was true. Paul had hurt CeeCee. She'd told me. And I sure as hell believed her. Hell, I wouldn't put it past Paul to blow up a kindergarten just for fun!  
  
. . . Okay, I would put it past him. That's a little melodramatic.  
  
But you get my point? I trusted CeeCee. And Adam had a right to know that some bad-ass ghoul was hurting his best friend, and hopefully, future girl- friend.  
  
Adam was pretty quiet for a little while. I wasn't looking at him, I was staring at the sunset. It was so beautiful. All those balmy colours, merging warmly into each other and darkening to the blueness that was capturing the sky. I could even see the stars already, and the moon. It was almost full.  
  
But then Adam spoke up again.  
  
'Suze . . . where is he?'  
  
I frowned, and turned back to him again. 'Huh?'  
  
'Where is this Paul guy?' His voice was a low growl. Whoa, he was taking the thing a little seriously. I mean, sure. Paul was going to get every square millimeter of his ass kicked, but I wasn't foaming at the mouth, was I?  
  
No, I was just losing a battle of emotional turmoil inside my mind, because he'd taken my dad away . . .  
  
But I wasn't . . . letting that . . . show.  
  
'Adam,' I said snappily, 'Get a grip. Don't' think you can waltz up to Paul and beat him up. him, dead already/ As in, ghost? It won't do much good. And remember, what you want to do to him, he could do ten times worse to you.'  
  
Adam glared at the steering wheel. 'But he hurt her,' he said. 'I . . . I didn't know. I mean, I heard her before, but I didn't actually think about what she said. I was too angry that you weren't being open about this whole –'  
  
I coughed angrily, and he apologized hastily.  
  
'But serious, Suze,' he said, 'we have to do something about this guy . . . '  
  
'Excuse me?' I demanded, looking at him sharply. 'We? Uh, Adam? You're staying away from him. I do not need you on his hit list as well, you know. Don't you even think about doing anything, well, stupid. Not that you could.'  
  
'What's that supposed to mean?' he barked at me, his lip curling in a very unattractive way. I shrugged. 'Whatever you like,' I said simply. 'Drive me home, please.'  
  
He did just that. We sat in an irritated silence. It sounded more like a buzzing. Of wasps. Only after he pulled up in my drive did I break the uncomfortable hush.  
  
'I'll pick you up tomorrow, eight, okay?' he griped. 'I mean, if you think I'm so useless, it's the least I could do –'  
  
'Adam,' I groaned, as I slid out of the V8 with my schoolbag, 'Look . . . I don't think you're useless. I'm just actually liking the fact that you and CeeCee are alive. Because if you cross Paul, you're as good as dead.'  
  
'You've crossed him,' he pointed out rudely, 'I don't see you looking to departed yourself.'  
  
I sniffed. 'If you had any idea how close I came to being just that today,' I yelled at him, 'You'd freak! Now shut up about things you don't know about, Adam!'  
  
'Fine!' he shouted, glaring tartly.  
  
'Fine!' I replied, slamming the door.  
  
He turned away from me with a definite gruffness, and twisted the keys in the ignition erratically. Even from outside the car, I could hear them jangling. Quickly, I opened the door again, just before he left again, 'Oh, and Adam? Open your frigging eyes, you moron.'  
  
Then I turned on my heel, and entered my house. I heard him honking his horn loutishly behind my back as he drove off. Joy. We were fighting. Just bloody PERFECT.  
  
I stormed up the flight of steps in a boiling temper, and threw my door open as I came to the head of the stairs. I let out a very unfeminine grunt of exasperation, and was about to belly flop onto my beckoning bed when a pair of arms shot out and drew me into a crushing embrace. I squealed in shock. What? I do NOT like being grabbed from behind!  
  
'That's it, Slater, you are TOAST!' I raged, and totally pivoted backwards so that my heel came crashing with his back, hard.  
  
'AH!' he roared in pain, only . . .  
  
Oh, bloody hell!  
  
'Jesse!' I gasped, 'What the – what the HELL are you doing here?'  
  
The sexy Latino in question stumbled away from me, looking very weird. 'Usted es muy descuidado,' he groaned, eyeing me. 'Querida, oh, Susannah, I was so scared,' he gushed, dragging me into his arms. I blinked at him. His dark, smooth face was looking very . . . well, odd. Un-Jesse-like. He held me protectively, tightly. His hand ran through my hair, and he kissed my forehead impulsively.  
  
'Jesse? What's wrong?' I asked him in perplexity. 'Are you okay?'  
  
'Fui espantado . . . el mintió, ese bastardo malo . . . ' he muttered under his breath, still not letting go. His muscular arms embraced me so that I was very closely against him. He rested my head on his chest. I still didn't understand what was the big deal, you know?  
  
'Jesse!' I snapped, digging my thumbs into his sides. He let go in alarm, staring at me with wide, black eyes.  
  
(A/N: Oooh! A thunderstorm just started . . . don't you LOVE storms? With the pelting rain? And the lightning? And the THUNDER!!! Crashing . . . Um, shutting up now . . .)  
  
'What's the problem?' I grilled.  
  
Jesse gave me a slightly sheepish smile. 'It is me being foolish enough to take that pícaro seriously. I should not have been so gullible . . .' he shrugged, and slid a hand down my arm, looking down at me with warm, liquidy eyes that seemed to go on forever, like a black ocean . . . Ever moving, silent but storming, and beautifully dark . . .  
  
I smiled up at him, right up until his words registered. 'Huh? What did Paul say?' I asked stiffly.  
  
'That pringao . . .' he cursed, 'he told me that you were dead, querida.'  
  
I went pale. Not because I was immediately angry at Paul. I mean, hell, I was but . . .what if I was supposed to be?  
  
I swallowed, and shrugged. 'Well, dude, this is me, larger than life,' I forced out a smile.  
  
Jesse pulled me into a hug again. 'I thought that I'd lost you,' he whispered into my hair.  
  
That was when a true smile graced my lips. God . . . why did I even have second thoughts about Paul when this man was here for me, to love me and to get all worked up about me when I was assumed dead and stuff. So sweet . . . Jesse was the only guy that I could ever love. I just felt so safe here . . . the perfection wasn't bothering me now. It would later, but not while I felt so secure and loved.  
  
And he was so gentle at the same time as being fierce.  
  
Paul would never be like that. He would always be a threat to me. A danger to my life.  
  
'He told me that you were trapped somewhere,' Jesse said, gripping my back harder, 'He said that you'd run out of air soon. I could not sense you, Susannah. It was like you – or he – were blocking me. I did not understand, and I guess I . . . I panicked,' he whispered to me, his hand firm on my shoulder blade. I frowned against his chest.  
  
'He did kind of, you know, throw me in a coffin with a corpse,' I said, 'left me to die, the usual . . . but I'm over it.'  
  
I felt Jesse go very tense against me.  
  
'Cantamañanas . . . ' was all he said.  
  
'Jesse, English please?' I moped up at him . . . but I then say his eyes. They were black, but there was a deadliness in there. A black fire. A wild movement. A rage . . .  
  
I stepped back from him. 'Jesse, calm down. Look, I'm fine. I'm a mediator – I mean, shifter, so I'm like, extra strong, and just because I have no air for half an hour, doesn't mean I die like a normal person –'  
  
'HALF AN HOUR?!' he cried in ire, seizing my shoulders, 'That DEMONIO! Yo lo mataré!'  
  
'Jesse, stop it!' I yelped, 'You're kind of rough, you know?'  
  
Immediately, Jesse let go of me, looking horrified with himself. 'Dios . . . Susannah, I am sorry. I am tan enojado with him! It wasn't meant to be released on you in any way,' he said, looking deeply apologetic. His full, dark hair shone gold under my bedroom light.  
  
I smiled softly. 'It's okay,' I said. 'I don't have much tact myself. Uh, well, I don't really know what to do,' I said nervously. 'It's just, today, he actually left me to die. All the other times, he was there to stop himself from killing me, but there, it was like, he didn't even want to stop himself.' I trailed off, staring absently into space. Paul officially wanted me dead. Why? What the hell did I do to him? Besides you know, reject him and stuff. Why type of loser took that to heart?  
  
'Susannah,' Jesse broke into my thoughts awkwardly.  
  
I snapped my eyes to him. The light globe above him was giving his hair a kind of golden halo. It was beautiful, like Jesse really was my divine angel. His deeply tanned face looked so concerned. He cared. He actually cared whether I lived or died.  
  
Then again, so did Paul. He just preferred it to be the latter.  
  
I groaned, and buried my face in my hands briefly, holding a deep gulp of air and releasing it. 'Yep?' I sighed, resurfacing.  
  
'Susannah, as against such things as I usually am . . .I strongly suggest that you come with me tonight,' he said, staring into my eyes. I could see a flash of discomfiture there, but his decency was overruling it.  
  
I went very red. 'What?'  
  
'Er,' he said to the floor, 'In separate rooms, I assure you. I am worried about your safety, querida - '  
  
. . . He was calling me "querida" again . . .  
  
' – and there are certain rituals that I have performed on my bedroom that specifically do not allow Paul to enter,' he went on. 'Oh,' he added, realizing what he said, 'you of course can stay there, I will stay otherwise. I know that I can handle Paul if the situation arises and I want to ensure that you are out of harm's way – '  
  
. . . He's so sweet. God Suze . . . he really does love you. Look at the way that he's blushing . . .  
  
' – and you can tell your mother that your are staying the night at your friend CeeCee's if she is doubtful of this arrangement,' he continued, his sentences getting faster by the moment, 'But I can assure you that you will be perfectly safe . . . from, er, all things, there. I make that promise to you, Susannah,' he vowed, taking my hand and kissing my fingertips.  
  
. . . He's so magical . . .  
  
'Jesse, cool it,' I smiled. 'I guess it's not a bad idea. I'll just get a couple of things. If you promise to drive me to school, then that's okay.'  
  
'But of course,' he nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly in happiness. Not the evil, hidden-agenda-y happiness. The "she trusts me" happiness.  
  
I felt that was face was flaming hot, and that my hands were fidgeting. Oh God, this was embarrassing . . . quietly, I grabbed a few things, scrawled a note for mum as an explanation to my absence, and walked back to Jesse.  
  
'How are we going to get there?' I asked, 'You don't have a car at the moment.'  
  
He grinned knowingly. 'Susannah. I think that if I can dematerialize from Spain to here, I can materialize from here to my house,' he said fairly.  
  
'Oh yeah,' was my witty evaluation.  
  
Revenge of the blondness. It was the clothes, I swear.  
  
Jesse carefully put his arms around my waist, and we both dematerialized together in a shower of brilliant blue radiance . . .  
  
I stared at the photos. There were so many of them. Faces. Beautiful faces. All smiling. All happy.  
  
Rosa and Lola beamed up at me, hugging each other affectionately as toddlers. Esmerelda was pouting cutely at her big sisters as they tickled her, in another. I scanned them all . . . Mr and Mrs De Silva on their wedding day, looking younger and even more attractive than they were now.  
  
So many photos . . .  
  
Jesse, holding Adrianna, who was resting her head against his shoulder serenely. Her huge black eyes looked so tranquil and innocent. Jesse's looked world-wise, proud and brotherly.  
  
Then, I came across a photo that made me stare harder than I'd ever stared before.  
  
Jesse was there, with an old man in a wheel chair . . .  
  
. . . And Paul.  
  
Paul looked absolutely dashing. All three of them were dressed up formally. Paul, although younger, had his hair gelled into sophisticated little curls, like they were now, but they were shorter in the photo. His smile, still dark and mysterious, wasn't as deadly as it had been of late. There was something less evil there. Like he still had so much to learn . . .  
  
Jesse looked oblivious to Paul's stirring smile. He grinned amiably back at me. His hair had been shoulder length then, and had been incredibly sexy. But I liked it better now. It suited him.  
  
My eyes strayed to the old man in the wheel chair. His eyes. They were so like Paul's, except, older. So much older. No, seriously. As in, ancient, antique older. Almost, inhumanly older.  
  
Okay, now I was just being rude. Everyone else about him was fine. It was just the eyes . . .  
  
My own were drawn back to Paul. He penetrated me with his fixated gaze. He searched me, hurt me, called for me -  
  
'Susannah?'  
  
In alarm, I dropped the photo frame. With a loud smash, it shattered on the floor.  
  
'Shit,' I cursed, bending down and grabbing the glass hastily. 'Jesse, I'm sorry. I'm such a butterfingers, I'll clean it up, I'm really sorry – OW!' I swore as a piece of glass cut the skin in between the base of my thumb and my index finger.  
  
'Do relax, querida,' he smiled at me. 'Watch . . . '  
  
And then, with his EYES, all the pieces of the glass were . . . I dunno, telekinetically risen, and all cut through the air to – I assumed – the bin.  
  
Jesse's dark eyes blinked out of concentration. 'Ah, I'm getting better,' he said, pleased. He took my hand and held it up before him. It was barely bleeding. I felt like such an idiot. I mean, how often did I have to gore myself already? Suze, Paul was a major contributor, when he was poking his thorny roses into my hands, but still! 'It's a very shallow cut,' Jesse inspected, 'A bandaid will do it.'  
  
With a focused grimace, a bandaid materialized into his hand.  
  
'Oh my God,' I said in awe, 'Hello, circus magician.'  
  
Jesse chuckled a sexy, slow little chuckle that made my spine almost shatter in pleasure. 'You could do it too, if you wanted to . . .'  
  
I arched an eyebrow. 'Sure. "Just have faith!" I'm sure.'  
  
'No, I am being perfectly serious,' he declared, wrinkling his forehead eloquently. 'You have great potential to be a powerful shifter, Susannah.'  
  
'It sounds so much better when you say it,' I smiled at him.  
  
Jesse's grin froze, and he looked at me sharply. 'What was that?' he asked with a different tone. It was demanding . . .  
  
'Uh, nothing,' I said quickly. Jesse glowered again. 'Susannah . . . has Paul said that also?'  
  
I giggled nervously. 'No?' I squeaked.  
  
'Susannah,' he warned.  
  
'Well, so what if he has?' I shrugged angrily.  
  
Jesse closed his eyes and groaned softly.  
  
'What?' I snapped.  
  
Jesse shook his head, and looked at me again, his mouth twitching. 'Make me a promise, Susannah, that whatever the situation, you will not go to Paul to learn the shifter ways. He has dark methods, and has studied dark teachings. You must never accept his instruction on –'  
  
'I know,' I butted. 'I mean, it was kind of obvious. Evil, horny loser with spooky, over-used pick up lines, and offering to show me a whole new world that I couldn't imagine. From the first day I knew the guy was a nut.'  
  
Again, Jesse laughed that spine-tingling chuckle that made my heart do these little flip-flops inside my chest. After applying the bandaid to my hand, he lead me down a long, painting covered hallway.  
  
I looked again at Jesse's eyes . . . hang on . . .  
  
'Jesse,' I said slowly, 'What's wrong?'  
  
He stopped. 'What ever do you mean, querida?'  
  
'You look . . . I dunno, sad,' I commented. But didn't he always have that adorably sexy "lost puppy" appeal to him? I wished I could eat my words back up.  
  
His gaze flickered. 'Actually, there is something. My uncle, the one whom we flew to Spain in the first place . . . He died this morning,' he explained in a level, unreadable tone.  
  
'Oh,' I said, feeling very guilty, 'I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up, I just was –'  
  
'Do not apologize, Susannah,' he ordered blankly. 'You have nothing to be sorry for. He died a very happy man. He had his family around, who loved him. He had no unfinished business. It was just . . . difficult for me, to watch someone die.'  
  
'Like what happened with Paul,' I said.  
  
ME AND MY BIG MOUTH!  
  
Jesse looked me in the eye brusquely, and I recoiled slightly.  
  
'I'm . . . oooh, no tact!' I whined, thumping myself dully on the forehead.  
  
He held my wrist to prevent me from doing so, and smiled weakly. 'No, you are right,' he nodded. 'I had to watch Paul die also. But that was easier, and harder at the same time, than my uncle. Paul . . . he'd made it easy on me by first making me want to kill him. But trying to hurt Adrianna,' Jesse explained, his Spanish accent heavy with regret. 'But to watch a person die is the worst experience one can ever undergo. It steals something that is very rare from within you. I felt it go when I pulled the trigger of that gun.' He said that with clenched teeth. 'I feel conflicted. I regret doing it, but I wish him this fate also. A terrible man I am . . . but I do not want others to suffer at his hands –'  
  
'I know,' I said softly. I could see this was hard for him to say. He knew that he was a murderer, and it broke him. Oh, God . . . Jesse wasn't as perfect as he appeared. I'd underestimated how much killing Paul had affected him. How much it had shaped the character that was in front of me at the moment.  
  
The hall was so bright.  
  
Why did we need all these lights on?  
  
Jesse and I were standing very close . . . I could feel him breathing on my cheek. It was good breath. Nice breath. Not smelly, pleasant and warm . . .  
  
'Susannah,' he said gently.  
  
He was going to kiss me again!  
  
I could so tell!  
  
It was in his eyes!  
  
Those beautiful, Latino eyes . . .  
  
I swallowed. 'Yeah, Jesse?'  
  
His eyes flashed mischievously. 'Would you like a milkshake?'  
  
I poked him hard in the stomach. 'You suck,' I snapped jokily. 'But whatever.'  
  
Smiling in triumph, he continued to lead me down the hall to the kitchen. Well, if the fridge and the dishwasher and the stove and the oven and everything were any indication. I mean, it could have been the toilet . . . but pray tell, WHERE were the sewerage pipes?!  
  
I'm kidding . . .  
  
Jesse swayed coolly up to the fridge. God, did the bastard know how hot he was? The way his neck bent forward, the seriousness on his face, his smooth, dark skin, his black, rich hair, strong arms, ice-melting smile, and the eyes . . .  
  
So sexy . . .  
  
He withdrew a tub of ice cream, some sprinkles, a bar of chocolate, a carton of milk, a little bottle of vanilla essence, and two tall sundae glasses.  
  
'Impressive,' I smiled at him, as he set everything up, and then retrieved the blender from an overhead cupboard.  
  
Cheerily, we both began scooping dollops of ice cream into the blender, all smiles at each other. I kind of spilt a few sprinkles, but he didn't really care. The milk went in, and after melting the chocolate in the microwave, that went in too.  
  
'Mmm,' I licked my lips in anticipation, 'This is going to be yummy.'  
  
Jesse's eyes twinkled. 'Yes, I agree.' He went to mix it all together when I coughed and slid in the way. 'Excuse me, but I think that it's my turn?' I pointed out.  
  
'Yes, ladies first,' he nodded with a reckless grin. I blinked. Huh?  
  
Shrugging, I pushed the button –  
  
SPLAT!  
  
. . . I didn't know blenders came with LIDS!  
  
'Oh my God!' I screamed as all the milky ice cream plastered itself across my face, clothes – although they technically weren't mine – and hair! And Jesse had suffered the same fate.  
  
I was horrified with myself! 'Oh my God, Jesse, I'm so SORRY!' I gasped, shielding my mouth with my hand in horror.  
  
Jesse looked at me blankly, thoroughly annoyed. I wanted him to say something! Oh, he was going to kill me! Look at the mess I'd made!  
  
His hair had thick splodges of ice cream, and his face, only minimally affected, was spotted with little blobs of chocolate.  
  
Why wouldn't he SAY SOMETHING?!  
  
Then, I couldn't help myself. I just cracked up, totally.  
  
'You're – covered – in . . . in – ice cream!' I laughed hysterically. It was all down my front, and my arms, and my hair, and my face, especially . . . but I didn't care. Jesse just looked so FUNNY!  
  
'And in your hair too!' I shrieked with laughed, doubling over.  
  
'Stop laughing, I'm covered,' he said in annoyance.  
  
'But you look ridiculous!' I squealed, bursting into fits of giggles again.  
  
'So do you!' he retorted, not seeing such a funny side.  
  
Which was fair enough. It was going to take AGES to clean. But come on, you HAD to be there!  
  
'I'm sorry, you just. . . your face!' I cracked up again.  
  
Only I kind of stopped laughing, VERY abruptly, when he grabbed me around the waist and trapped me against him, gazing down at me before hissing, 'I don't really like to waste food . . . ' and then . . .  
  
. . . . Kissing the milkshake off my cheek.  
  
I was so shocked. I really was. My mouth was kind of hanging open. Jesse was going all bad-boy on me! Oooh, I likey! I smiled as he continued to lightly clean my face from the syrupy mess. My skin tingled beguilingly, and I gasped in pleasure. My eyes drifted closed as his lips continued to roam my face. Oh, it felt so good . . . everything else slipped away so easily that all I could think about was Jesse. What was he doing? I mean, dude, I was NOT complaining . . . but . . . this wasn't Jesse, right?  
  
When he'd gotten all of the ice cream off my cheeks, his lips strayed back down and claimed mine, bringing the gentle, tantalizing kisses up to a full- scale kiss of passion. I gripped Jesse to me, throwing my arms around his neck, and he tilted his head to the left, pushing against my lips. Oh, God, this was beautiful . . . It melted away everything . . . Dad, Paul, Timothy, fighting with Adam . . . everything drifted away. My lips were on fire, but in such an awesome way! Jesse's hand cupped my face hastily, and I ran my hands through his beautiful dark curls that were dampened with ice cream still. I didn't care. His hand on my back ran up and down my spine, sending random thrills chasing one another. This felt so wonderful, I didn't want it to end.  
  
And with a deluge of gentle blue light, our surroundings changed, and we were in . . . well, it appeared to be a bedroom. I clearly wasn't paying to much attention, too busy on things more, er, immediate.  
  
But then it all stopped too quickly!  
  
'Querida!' Jesse shouted out, falling back from me.  
  
I stared in alarm. 'What? Did I do something wr –'  
  
Jesse seized his forehead, 'I am eternally sorry, Susannah, I do not know what came over me,' he gasped. What had happened?  
  
'Why did you stop?' I asked him, a little hurt. What did I do? Did I do something that he didn't like?  
  
'I . . . it was terrible of me,' he said, 'I completely lost my head . . .'  
  
I frowned. 'You mean, you didn't want that to happen?' For effect, a little globule of cream splashed on the carpet.  
  
I felt pathetic. And confused.  
  
Jesse jammed his eyes shut. 'Susannah, I don't think that . . .' he began, but now I was annoyed.  
  
'Jesse, you think too much!' I protested. 'That kiss . . . that blew me away. Jesse, I love you. I . . . I really do . . . is there something wrong . . . did I –'  
  
'No!' Jesse yelled, 'Susannah, there is nothing wrong with you. I promised you that I wouldn't . . . that I would keep from . . . that if you stayed the night, you would not have to, well, kiss me or anything. It was wrong of me to break your trust, and I am so sorry that –'  
  
'Jesse,' I said softly, stepping towards him a little, 'that was the most beautiful kiss ever . . . I don't have to do anything. But . . . ' I smiled secretly, '. . . I want to.'  
  
Jesse swallowed, and opened his mouth several times. For someone who had just been so face-kissy and stuff, he was pretty nervous.  
  
'I'll make it easier, then,' I whispered to him, and I kissed him very gently on the lips. Gently . . . slowly . . . oh GOD, it felt good to be distracted!  
  
He responded with equal steadiness. I was still confused. Like, I wasn't even thinking straight. Why was Jesse so reluctant? Was there someone else on his mind? I mean, something? Yeah, something.  
  
Not some ONE.  
  
There were no other ones but me . . . right? I grazed my hand down the side of his face smoothly, but frowned. Oh, damned thoughts! Why couldn't I just forget everything? Forget that everything existed? That Paul, vampires and God forbid, demons, were all myths. And why couldn't I just feel happy that Jesse did love me? Why did I have to make up reasons to justify the fact that he might actually like me for who I was? Why did I feel like he wanted me to become someone else? Did he want me to be different?  
  
But with all my remaining willpower, I forced all thought from my mind, and just let go . . . I lost myself in my love.  
  
Oh shit, I loved Jesse . . . so much. It burnt, like a fire that had just been newly ignited, and would burn on forever. It was amazing and mind- blowing how good it felt, just to be there with someone who cared for me.  
  
But the moment of bliss was brutally shattered by a hesitant, 'Perdone, yo no lo vi!'  
  
Jesse broke away directly, to my bewilderment. He paled. 'Qué en nombre de Dios are you doing here . . . Querida?'  
  
I turned my head brusquely –  
  
Oh.  
  
Holy cow . . .  
  
A/N: Please review. I'm not feeling too well at the moment, and it is 2.00am, so I am making an effort! Please review? I'm really tired, and if that chapter got a little odd, blame the drowsiness. If I read it tomorrow and I don't like it, I'll change it. I don't think it was too bad, though. What do YOU think? Please-oh-please review . . .  
  
I need something to cheer me up.  
  
Regards, MystAngel. 


	18. What Friends Are For

Again, this chapter is really long. I don't know what happened. But still, PLEASE review!!!!  
  
I stared.  
  
I mean, when you see something like that, all you can do is stare.  
  
Nup, not much else besides the staring.  
  
Staaaaaaaring . . .  
  
Well, and the indignant slack jaw.  
  
Because the girl in front of me? Um, knock out much? Like, WHOA. She was tall, and slender, and man was she beautiful! Her features, they were all so dark. She looked so much like Jesse, only, well, kinda girly. Her eyes were black, and were darkly lined – but natural, no make up. They kind of looked at you accusingly, as if to say, "what in God's name are you doing?" Her olive skin was flawless, and her lips were – again – dark. Her hair was so black and glossy. And well . . . you know, she was more endowed on the chest than I was. Probably the only thing about her was that she did kind of have a very pinched look about her face . . . like, prissy, or something . . . but otherwise, DAMN.  
  
I choked.  
  
'This – THIS is Querida Andres?' I spluttered to Jesse crossly. This was the babe he'd spent OVER a week with?! What was he THINKING?  
  
But Jesse was kind of staring at her in bewilderment also.  
  
Like I said. It was as if staring was the only thing to do.  
  
She wrung her fingers together nervously, blinking like she was totally oblivious. 'Quién es esto, Jesse?' she frowned, speaking demurely, with a low, full voice.  
  
I was still kinda staring.  
  
'Who is who? Oh, es Susannah. Yo lo he dicho acerca de ella. Ella es un chamán,' Jesse said quickly, letting go of me, and running up to her. He held her shoulders. 'How did you get here, Querida?'  
  
The way he called her that . . . querida. That was me. That was my name. It was reserved for me. He didn't say it in the same caressing way – but still. He was calling her something that I thought had been mine. Precious.  
  
Wasn't anymore.  
  
She looked pretty freaked out, with her wide, sad eyes and her pouty lips. Well, those sad eyes were fixated on my Jesse, so I was starting to lose all my sympathy. Well, okay, I didn't have any sympathy, but if I did, it would have been gone when I saw her staring at MY boyfriend like that. In the "you are totally cute can you get rid of the third wheel so we can continue our secret affair?" way.  
  
. . . What?  
  
They began talking in rapid Spanish. I didn't catch a word of it, except the occasional "amigo" or something. Damn, this sucked. But – she'd ruined our happy moment! How bloody often did we get one of those?!  
  
. . . I know it is wrong, but there and then, I took an instant dislike to Querida Andres.  
  
Quietly, I walked over to the bed – whosoever it was – and just watched the two of them. How gentle his hands were on her shoulders, how he maintained such an intense eye-contact with her, how he smiled that sexy little half- smile every now and then, how –  
  
STOP IT SUZE.  
  
Great, I was depressing myself again.  
  
After a while, I cut in dryly. 'So how did she get here, Jesse? I mean, you said how hard it was for you to materialize such a long distance.'  
  
Jesse turned away from her for the first time in about five minutes. See? And people call me an attention seeker . . . I'd given him his time. Just – well . . . fair's fair. He needed some "me" time now. "Me" being me.  
  
'Querida does not know how she traveled so far. She does not understand. She was thinking very intensely about where I was, and thus, here she is.'  
  
'I'm not convinced,' I said bluntly.  
  
Jesse frowned. 'Susannah, no convincing is necessary. I believe her. She is not a girl to lie.'  
  
'Is she a shifter or a mediator?' I asked him suspiciously. I mean, didn't he say that she was only a mediator?  
  
'Soy un mediador,' Querida piped up,' tossing her hair. She edged closer to Jesse, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. 'Tengo frío,' she said softly, pouting again. Jesse nodded, and promptly surrendered his jacket to her.  
  
I glared at her.  
  
'What did she say?' I demanded.  
  
Jesse scowled. 'She said that she is cold, Susannah. Honestly, what did you think she said?'  
  
'How about, "What a nice jacket. Can I have it? I can't afford on of my own." Or maybe, "Please remove your clothing so I may have full view of your –"'  
  
'Susannah!' Jesse snapped, 'please!'  
  
Querida blinked lazily at me.  
  
Querida . . . damn her . . . damn her and her pouty lips and her puppy eyes and her perfect complexion and her killer figure and her Spanish labeled clothes and her stupid STUPID ACCENT!!!!  
  
AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!  
  
'Look,' I said to her with a shrug. 'It was great to meet you, Queer. My heart is singing. Making these little screeching sounds and everything. But I'm sure you and Jesse want to catch up, you know, talk about the weather, and then accordingly exchange articles of clothing –'  
  
'Queer?' she asked in confusion.  
  
'Yeah,' I forced a sweet smile. 'Short for Querida. Sums you up perfectly –'  
  
'Susannah, that's enough!' Jesse said angrily.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Light enough action, right? Wrong. I wanted more than everything than to get the hell out of there. Inside, I was screaming in frustration. 'Jesse, I have to go,' I said dully. 'I really do.'  
  
'Susannah, do not –'  
  
'No, I will,' I interrupted, and made for the door.  
  
'Seré espalda,' he babbled to Querida warmly, and then grabbed my upper arm, and pulled me out the door angrily. 'Susannah, what is wrong with you?'  
  
I stared up at him fiercely. 'Nothing. Not a thing. Except that you are cutting off all circulation in my upper arm.'  
  
He let go as if it had sprouted antennae. 'Your behaviour is appalling. You were rude, and – and exploitive –'  
  
'Exploitive?' I laughed furiously, 'oooh, big word. How the hell did I manage to be exploitive?'  
  
'Exploiting the fact that she cannot understand your language, and making a mockery of her ignorance,' he shot back at me, his eyes blazing.  
  
I sniffed. 'So?'  
  
'So nothing, Susannah! You cannot treat her like that! She has done nothing to you to deserve –'  
  
'I know,' I butted in irritably, 'but . . . oh just forget it.'  
  
'No, Susannah!' he yelled. 'Tell me what is the matter with you! You don't just act like that to someone who you have just –'  
  
'DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!' I screamed back at him, shoving him against the wall forcefully. He looked bewildered, but then, really angry.  
  
But I'd had enough. I wasn't going to hear him talk shit. Hear him defend that little . . . Okay, I KNEW that I was being perverse! But – but, well, you had to be there to understand, okay? That Querida girl, the way that she – that Jesse – that she and him had just – oh, you know! It was unnerving. I couldn't stand it.  
  
I just kept running. More than anything I wanted to run!  
  
'Susannah! Come back! How will you go at this time of night? I refuse to drive you!' he yelled after me.  
  
'Fine! Paul can hunt me down for all you care!' I shrilled. 'Nice to know you truly care about me, De Silva. It's bloody touching!'  
  
I bolted down the flight of stairs, all the while Jesse running after me, shouting for me to stop. I didn't. I stopped listening, even. I really didn't care. Screw Jesse . . . He could handle himself if Paul came. I could too, if I really put my mind to it . . .I knew that I could, I just – oh, GOD!  
  
This freaking house! It's like a labyrinth! For God's sake! How was I supposed to find my bag of stuff with all these hallways and doors and –  
  
Oh, there it is.  
  
Feverishly, I snatched my bag, and ran for the front door. Well, I almost got there, give me credit, when Jesse cheated! He totally cheated, and materialized in front of me!  
  
The last glittering particles of his face fell into place and he glared at me. 'Usted es es desrazonable! Susannah, you are angry, and upset. I do not understand why. But you cannot leave in this state. You will only get yourself into trouble. Please, be rational and –'  
  
'There you go! Telling me what to do! Jesse? PISS OFF!' I thundered. I felt burbling molten lava exploding inside of me, and my head was clouded with a dark red miasma.  
  
I gotta get out. I gotta get out. I GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE! ANYWHERE!!!  
  
. . . And with that, I dematerialized.  
  
Away from the De Silva manor, I held my head. I didn't know where I was. It was very dark. Like, behind a building, or something. Gently highlighting the shady gloom of the atmosphere were pale deep blue lights. Everything else was black. Shadow.  
  
It felt good to be alone . . .  
  
I backed up against the brick wall, sliding down it. It was so cold. Which was weird. Carmel wasn't supposed to be cold, but it was. Or maybe it was just me. I felt so down in the dumps. Which was, basically, where I was I guess. I looked around some more. I balled my hands and massaged my forehead, jamming my eyes shut. Why couldn't everything just go away? Why did stupid Querida have to go screw up Jesse's and my evening? Well . . . okay, that sounded weird . . . but you know what I mean. We were supposed to be alone, to talk or God forbid, make out. Then Catherine Zeta Jones wannabe had to show up. It wasn't FAIR! And then she's totally making eyes at him! You could totally tell!  
  
So there I was, sitting all alone, in a dark alleyway, with my milkshake- saturated hair and my borrowed clothes, and anger.  
  
And yes, maybe jealousy.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Well, what? Querida, she was way pretty. And she understood Jesse. She talked Spanish with him. Cora said that they went perfectly together. Maybe they did. Maybe I wasn't good enough.  
  
Maybe that was why he stopped kissing me . . .  
  
I clutched my hair. Oh, GOD, why did my world suck? What did I do so wrong to get all of this? Why did that stupid, pedantic princess have to show up? What did she want, anyway?  
  
I glared into space. Into the blackness before my eyes. A bar of blue light was cast across the floor from where the two buildings separated. Everything was so cold . . . of, why did I have these stupid clothes on? I was ice!  
  
I hugged at my arms, and released a breath of chilled air. It came out in a wispy white haze. Above me, everything was black. I couldn't see the stars. It was haunting. Great. The perfect thing at the moment would be for Paul to show up and kill me here. Wouldn't that be ironic? I mean, he had full intentions of doing so. He totally proved that this morning, it is safe to say. So why not now? Hey, who cared if I died a day earlier than he planned? I mean, what's a day when you're me? When the next day is just gonna suck as much as the last?  
  
Cold . . .  
  
With a shuddering breath, I inhaled frosty air into my lungs. The air was bitter in my throat. It hurt. This wasn't fair . . . no justice . . . Adam hated me, so did Jesse, and he was probably off pashing Querida as we speak, and Paul wanted me dead, and my Dad was gone, and everything was just getting FREAKING ON TOP OF ME!!!  
  
With that, I leapt up, and threw myself against the opposite wall, pounding on the bricks madly.  
  
'NO!' I screamed at the tops of my lungs, trying to connect with anyone on an astral level. Anyone? Wasn't there someone out there who cared? Please! 'PLEASE!' I pleaded, as cold tears stung at the corners of my eyes. Why? Life was SO much better in New York! With Gina! And – and Dad was fine! And I didn't have step brothers, and – and . . .  
  
I fell to my knees. I felt like lead. Like lead that had been thrown into a river, and was sinking fast. Fast into a cold, dark, silent world, where no one could hear me screaming . . .  
  
Screaming so loud, I thought I would die from the volume.  
  
And after so long of trying to hide from everything, it hit me hard and fast. I was crying. Crying hard. It hurt my head, and my throat, and my eyes, and I couldn't breathe, and I was trying to breathe, but I couldn't get air, and I was yelping and hiccuping, and I was shaking so MUCH, and it wasn't stopping, because I was just letting everything go . . .  
  
All of a sudden, I didn't want to be alone. I needed someone, anyone, just to hold me and tell me it was all right!  
  
. . . But I knew that there was no one there . . .  
  
Sobbing madly, I closed my eyes, trying to run from my thoughts. Run from my life!  
  
'Er, hey, are you like, okay?' a voice asked softly.  
  
I lifted my head up, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. I'm such a class act, I know. A girl was standing there in the shadow, wearing a black top and black slacks. She kind of looked a little . . . well, whorish, I know, not nice! But she did. The top was way, um, enhancing, and totally put 'em out in public. It was kind of gross. But still, she was just concerned. However, I didn't want concern. I wanted her to go. Whoever she was.  
  
'Um, I just want to be alone,' I whispered. Wow, I'm so hypocritical. 'Could you leave?'  
  
'Well,' she said, taking a small, casual step closer. Her face was still in deep shadow. I squinted at her, trying to make out her features more, but it was too dark. 'It's not the best place to be alone, a dark alley way. No one around. There are strange people at night, wandering around. Looking for little girls,' she added eloquently. She stopped, one hand on her hip.  
  
I sniffed. 'Like you?'  
  
Her hand dropped in annoyance. 'Yeah, but I can take care of myself,' she snapped.  
  
'So can I,' I glared. 'Go, please.'  
  
'Well, what if I don't want to?' she asked. 'It's such a beautiful night. And I'm kinda hungry. You wanna go get a bite to eat?'  
  
'But honey, I don't wanna rush into anything,' I said sarcastically. 'I'll be fine, as soon as you piss off and leave me alone. Okay?'  
  
She stepped closer to me again. I stared at her. Was she for real? Who the hell did she think she was?  
  
Queen of Burlesque?  
  
Yeah.  
  
'Look,' I said. 'I'm really not in the mood. But if you really want me to kick your ass, well, I'm more than happy. So push off before –'  
  
That was when she stepped into the pale moonlight.  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
'Tara,' I breathed.  
  
She grinned at me, but then stopped in confusion. 'How the hell do you know me?' she demanded.  
  
'I found you . . .' I said. 'I . . . you died.'  
  
'No,' she smiled darkly, 'This is the most alive I've felt for ages . . .'  
  
I stepped back from her. I remembered back to Kelly's party . . .  
  
Flashback  
  
'She's dead! Call an ambulance! TARA'S DE-E-E-E-EAD!' she howled at me, tears dribbling from her sealed eyes. Her forehead was wrinkled in pain.  
  
. . .  
  
'She's got no pulse,' she stated in a low, strangled voice.  
  
. . .  
  
Tara, her eyes . . . Grey . . . She was a pretty girl, too. Well, would have been when she was alive, anyway. Her hair was light brown, and seemed freshly washed.  
  
. . .  
  
They froze when they saw the body.  
  
No . . . Tara. She was a girl . . . Don't call her that . . .  
  
. . .  
  
End  
  
She'd been a normal girl. Now look at her. Jeez. What'd she do that was so bad? Pee in the holy water or something?  
  
'Don't,' I warned her. 'Don't do anything stupid. I told you, I'm not having the best day, and it is not getting better.'  
  
'You have no idea what I am,' she purred, her voice low. She bowed her head, looking up at me with glinting eyes. Eyes that still looked dead.  
  
'Try, oh, I dunno . . . vampire?' I said randomly.  
  
She twitched. 'What the – but . . . how –'  
  
'Long story,' I said lazily. 'And you have no idea what I am either. So get lost before I kick your – OW!' I yelled, as she punched me on the side of the head. 'Now that was uncalled for!'  
  
'Come on!' she goaded, her eyes flashing with sick enthrallment, 'Let's see what you are then. Run, dude. Get the blood warmed up for me.'  
  
I stumbled back. Wow, she was pretty strong. You know, for someone who was dead and all. Well, undead. Ghosts were dead. Vampires, apparently, were not.  
  
But yeah, she didn't need to tell me twice. I totally ran. Ran, ran, ran. I could hear her running after me. I was getting tired. But I didn't stop. I wanted to get the hell away from her. Get the hell away from Paul. From Querida Andres. From twisted life –  
  
Bump.  
  
I bashed into her head on. How did she do that? How?! What good is being a mediator with extra powers and strength, if others can match it so easily?!  
  
'So,' she grinned, 'are you scared?'  
  
'Not exactly,' I yawned – a total act – 'I'm no stranger to getting bitten by vampires. I've been bitten twice now. It's getting boring.'  
  
She looked insulted. 'You've been bitten?'  
  
'Yeah,' I sneered at her. 'Looks like this isn't going to be as special for you as you would have hoped –' But she kind of grabbed my shoulders, and shoved me against the brick wall? I mean, OW factor much?  
  
'You're one of those types,' she shouted in my face, 'think you own the whole frigging world. But you don't, do you. Well, do you?!'  
  
'I don't get that much allowance,' I snapped at her. 'Jeez – OW!' I yelled, as she smacked my face. 'Lay off, you bitch!'  
  
'Shut up!' she snarled, throwing me on the floor. 'Why aren't you scared? It's no fun when they're not scared! BE SCARED!'  
  
I stared at her.  
  
Wow, this chick was a rookie.  
  
'You really need some new material,' I commented to her. 'Scared? When you have a demonic prince of evil attempting to stuff you in a crypt at every corner, then you're scared.'  
  
Which kind of earned me a boot in the abdomen.  
  
I wheezed, holding my stomach in pain.  
  
'I'll just torture you, and then I'll kill you,' she decided with a sly grin, as she continued to kick me. I lay tensely in a fetal position on the ground, so cold . . . with every kick, I felt worse and worse. But the memories of the day dwindled. Pain distracted me from it. I would have preferred for the distractions to be in the form of hot Latino lips . . . but that wasn't available.  
  
Now don't get me wrong. It is so me to get up and totally bust one's chops when one dare lay a finger on me. But . . . it was like, "what's the point?" It really was.  
  
I just couldn't help thinking, 'Wow, what a lame way to die,' when Tara the Terrible got yanked away from me. I just kept staring into space. I didn't see who it was. Just kept staring into nothing . . . nothing, what I felt like . . .  
  
After about a minute – I couldn't hear the noises that the vampire and the mysterious person were making in the background of my roaring mind – a glowing hand waved in front of my face.  
  
My heart stopped. Not – please not –  
  
'Mediator, please, you haven't told him . . . '  
  
I blinked in alarm.  
  
WHAT THE HELL?!  
  
The Red Lady stood there, looking pitiful and small. But . . .  
  
Tara was gone.  
  
I stared at her. The Red Lady, I mean. She just looked at me with the saddest eyes that I've ever seen in my whole life. She like, froze you, and made you feel terrible.  
  
I mean, do I have that effect on people? NO. So what was her deal?!  
  
'I've . . . I've tried,' I said. 'But, it obviously didn't do anything, since you're kind of still . . . uh, hanging around.'  
  
'No!' she cried, 'You haven't!'  
  
'Actually, I have,' I kind of snapped. I mean, I was totally grateful for the little getting-rid-of-blood-sucking-fiend thing, but she was really pushing this. She was!  
  
'No!' she screeched at me, 'Tell him! Tell Red! Tell him it wasn't his fault! It was my time! I –'  
  
Something clicked.  
  
If Red Beaumont had have killed this woman . . . wouldn't she be a vampire too?  
  
. . . Oops.  
  
Maybe I had gotten the wrong guy.  
  
'But wait then,' I said slowly, 'You mean it's not Red Beaumont?'  
  
'No!' she wailed, 'you know red! You KNOW him!'  
  
And then she dematerialized.  
  
WHY CAN'T GHOSTS QUIT WITH THE BLOODY CRYPTIC?!  
  
I trailed along the street. I didn't have a clue where I was. Everything was so dark. This street totally had no streetlights. It was way black. And blue, from the moonlight. Oh, God. This was bad. I didn't know how I was going to get home. I couldn't find a pay phone to ring someone, and even if I could, I had no money.  
  
Bad.  
  
In my hand, I clutched my stuff that I'd been going to take over to Jesse's. More than anything, I just wanted to feel his arms encircling me, and him dropping light kisses on my lips, telling me that he was sorry, and that everything was all right, and that Querida had been turned into a toad.  
  
. . . What? Don't diss my fantasy!  
  
I rubbed my eyes. Man, I was tired. I wanted to fall into a bed, and sleep forever. A dreamless sleep, meaning, no "Paulie" dreams. They were horrible. I didn't want to see him ever again, but since when did I get what I wanted?  
  
The only plus was that Tara was kind of gone.  
  
Good.  
  
Yeah.  
  
The skank.  
  
. . . Hey, gimme a break. You saw what she was wearing! I've seen drag queens dressed better than that!  
  
Oh, shut up.  
  
Why couldn't I just collapse here and now, and sleep? Sure, I'd look like a homeless, and I'd totally be a sitting duck for Paul, but man, I was BEAT. I needed sleep. Mediators need sleep too, you know! They do.  
  
My neck felt itchy. Joy. I scratched in annoyance, but only got my fingers tangled up in a cord around my neck. Great. Even just a tiny thing like scratching my own neck can lead to disaster and –  
  
Hey . . .  
  
I ran my hand along the leather cord, and reached Jesse's Egyptian pendant that was hanging just inside my shirt. I traced my fingers over the embossed gold reflectively, wishing that Jesse was here . . .  
  
But he wasn't.  
  
I am such an idiot.  
  
I kept walking along the abandoned road. Yeah, road. What? It wasn't like some car was going to come zooming up the street. Everything was so quiet. I could hear my footsteps on the pavement clearly.  
  
I don't like the quiet. It scares me.  
  
And just for the ironic contradiction, a horn blasted into my thoughts. In alarm, I dived out of the way, just in time to avoid getting hit by a –  
  
- A V8 Bug?!?!  
  
I gasped. 'Adam?!'  
  
The car stopped beside me, and the door was flung open. 'Whoa, Suze?' said Adam McTavish in awe, 'What the hell are you doing here?'  
  
Only he didn't say "hell" so much.  
  
I looked away. 'I . . . uh, nothing. I got . . . lost.'  
  
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was still angry at me, I could tell. 'Yeah. About twenty blocks away from your house. Good one. Now tell me the truth, what are you –'  
  
'What about you?' I demanded, climbing to my feel and dusting off my but from the loose gravel. 'You just drive around deserted streets every night?'  
  
'Only when I'm pissed off with you,' he glared.  
  
'Oh, nice,' I drawled.  
  
He sighed, and turned back to face the wheel. 'Well, get in then.'  
  
I went pale. No, no way. I was totally fighting with him. I WILL NOT LOSE!!!  
  
'No, I'm fine,' I said, tossing my head. 'I can walk –'  
  
'Stop being so freaking proud, Suze,' he groaned. 'Get in the freaking car.'  
  
Again, with the alternate word to "freaking."  
  
'Language, Mac,' I said lightly.  
  
(A/M: "Mac" derived from "McTavish." Capishe?)  
  
Adam looked at me hard. But then, his face broke out into a small smile. 'Sorry,' he shrugged, running his tongue over hi front teeth and fiddling with his watch, 'I'm just . . . pissed. Ignore it. Come on, Suze. Get in the car. I don't want you wandering around our here. There are all sorts of weird people out.'  
  
'You're not wrong,' I murmured, walking to the opposite side of the car and sliding in nervously. I clicked in the seat belt buckle, and pursed my lips a little.  
  
And we were off, chugging determinedly down the horribly silent street.  
  
'So what's your glitch then?' he asked, his light brown hair looking grey in the light. Or lack of.  
  
I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. 'Long story,' I said.  
  
'Well, it's a pretty long drive,' he told me, 'So spill.'  
  
I gave him an oblique glance. 'Uh, sure. I was walking around . . . and then I hitched a ride . . . and then I walked some more –'  
  
'Suze,' he broke me off in annoyance, 'Please. For once in your life, don't give me a highly edited version. I'm not as dumb as I look.'  
  
I looked at him funny. 'No, you're dumber than you look. And that's saying something.'  
  
'Hey,' he gave me a goofy grin, still trying to look annoyed. 'Please. The truth, that's all I want.'  
  
And, going all "A few good men" on him, I gave him a lopsided smile, and cited, 'You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!'  
  
He gave me a slow, cynical look.  
  
I felt really dumb.  
  
'That was lame,' he said dully.  
  
'Yeah, I know,' I blushed.  
  
His watched beeped to indicate the change of hour.  
  
Oooh, this was embarrassing.  
  
'So yeah,' I babbled, 'I guess I really should tell you. This morning Paul totally tried to kill me by trapping me in that crypt out in the cemetery and that was after he exorcised my dad, and I got totally pissed at him and we fought and I was winning and then he trapped me in the grave, and my hair stank so I had to have a shower and THAT is why I'm wearing Kelly Prescott's clothes.'  
  
Adam blinked. 'Uh, I didn't quite catch –'  
  
'Oh yeah, and of course this evening Jesse suddenly turns up from Spain and is like "I thought you were dead!" and I'm like "No, I'm alive" and he's like "Yeah" and I'm like "yeah" and then we kissed and stuff and he told me that I had better stay at his house for the night to avoid unwanted encounters with previously mentioned dickhead Paul Slater the ghost and so I went there and we kissed some more and THEN!' I cried, pausing for breath in outrage, 'this Spanish chick turns up, and totally starts making eyes at MY Jesse, and Jesse gets pissed and I get pissed and I dematerialize and the Tara – the vampire – attacks me and some ghost saves me and then you almost ran over me,' I finished feebly, slumping back in the seat again.  
  
I looked at him expectantly.  
  
His mouth was kind of hanging open. 'Suze? Were you talking Swahili? Or just fast?'  
  
I shot him a venomous glare. 'Oh, shut up.'  
  
He snorted. 'I'm kidding. I got most of it. Whether I believe it, well . . . but yeah. So wow. De Silva did that? See? I told you Italians aren't the way.'  
  
'He's Latino,' I pointed out. 'Dumbass.'  
  
Adam's grin faded. 'Oh. Yeah.'  
  
He spun the wheel sharply, and we went cruising along a dimly lit road, congested with houses on either side. Dark clouds were playing across the sky, slow and lingering.  
  
'Hey Suze,' he said quietly.  
  
'Hmm?'  
  
'Do you love him?'  
  
I turned my head sharply. 'What?! Of course not! I could never love someone who treated me like that! There is no love! None! Why do people keep saying that? I don't love him! Get it through your head! I hate him! He doesn't love me, either! He's just kidding himself! I totally don't find trapping innocent girls in graves a turn on–'  
  
'Whoa, I'm talking about Jesse,' he said.  
  
I froze. 'Uh, okay then.'  
  
He dipped his head a little, sending me a brief eloquent glance. 'Well, do you?'  
  
I frowned. '. . . Yes.'  
  
'Then what are you doing here?' he asked. 'Why'd you go from his house?'  
  
'Because of that stupid, dumb señorita, and her pouty eyes and her clingy little –'  
  
'Okay, I got it,' Adam said quickly, wanting me to stop whining. Joy. What support. 'So, you don't like the new chick. Suze, deal.'  
  
'Who died and made you psychologist, anyway?' I frowned, crossing my arms moodily.  
  
'Sigmund Freud,' he said immediately.  
  
I laughed. 'Smooth.'  
  
. . . Jesse. I did love him. I didn't know what I was doing. Oh God, I was so confused. And scared. What if he took this the wrong way and broke up with me and got together with Querida? Oh, that would SUCK beyond all measure.  
  
'So, uh, Suze,' Adam said cautiously, 'Where are you crashing tonight, exactly?'  
  
Oops. I had forgotten about that . . .  
  
'Uh, I dunno,' I said. I didn't really want to go home. I didn't want to have to face my mother. As soon as I saw her I'd probably burst into tears. Aren't I just so disciplined? 'I'll just, I dunno . . . um . . . actually, I have no clue what I'll just do,' I admitted with a scanty laugh.  
  
Adam's mouth set into a grim line. 'You wanna stay at my place?'  
  
He said it. Just like that. Not accompanied by the "on the condition that you accompany me to my hot tub" or anything. Wow . . . this was the most – most . . . mature side I'd ever seen of Adam McTavish. It was almost unrealistic.  
  
But very welcome.  
  
I closed my eyes, feeling defeated. And very vulnerable. 'Yeah, Adam . . . that would be so great,' I whispered sincerely.  
  
He gave me a genuine smile. 'Hey, what are friends for?'  
  
I smiled warmly at him. 'For scabbing money off, and borrowing stuff and not giving it back and for bumming rides all around town and for –'  
  
'That was rhetorical,' he muttered.  
  
Again, I was in his room. But this time, CeeCee wasn't there. We were in our pajamas. And there was no Titanic video in the VCR.  
  
Adam looked around, embarrassed. 'Uh, I'd let you sleep in the spare bed . . . but we don't have a spare bed,' he winced.  
  
I chuckled. 'It's okay, I'm good for the floor –'  
  
'Hell no,' he said, scandalized, 'I'm totally there. You can go on my bed and stuff. Just if you say any stray pairs of jocks, well, ignore them.'  
  
I wrinkled my nose. 'You're not going to make a good sales person,' I remarked.  
  
'Aaah, the beauty of being an astronaut,' he said dreamily. I sniggered again, shaking my head. 'Oh, you're so funny,' I said sarcastically. 'Just in a non-funny way.'  
  
'You mock me, woman!' he said in outrage, 'Shame on thee who could kick me really hard in the nuts if thou wanted to!'  
  
Again, I smiled. I just . . . I dunno, after the whole weird night, I felt really safe. Warm. Like, Adam was always going to be there. In a total platonic way, I mean. He was a great friend. He really was. A great guy.  
  
I sat on the edge of his bed as he fluffed out a big quilt on the floor and tossed some pillows at one end, before settling another blanket over the top. Then, he came and sat next to me. His hair was extremely shaggy. Almost to a comical point.  
  
'So, you gonna be all right?' he asked. Serious again.  
  
I gave him an "I dunno you tell me" look.  
  
He looked at the ground, before looking back at me. 'This is not the ideal romantic moment between us that I used to imagine when I first met you. That fantasy involved us, minus the cheesy stripy pajamas,' he grinned widely. 'But those days are over. I can totally see that you are head over heels for the Latino lover. Damn him.'  
  
I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes shyly. I didn't know that Adam used to feel like that. It was weird . . . but still, reassuring, in the strangest way. After everything had been so cold, it wasn't so much anymore.  
  
I looked Adam square in the eyes. They were hazel.  
  
'Adam,' I said quietly.  
  
His grin froze slightly. 'Yeah, Suze?'  
  
I leant forward and gave him a friendly little kiss on the cheek. He went furiously red.  
  
'. . . Thanks.'  
  
Character building. You gotta love it. For the reference, NO this is NOT Adam/Suze fluff. God, don't you people know the meaning of FRIENDSHIP?! Lol, I'm kidding. But yeah. They are FRIENDS. Okay? Nothing more. Good.  
  
And so, the end is near. Please review, and tell me how much I suck?  
  
Regards, Mystique Angelique 


	19. Lilies

This chapter is absurdly long! Even for me! I'm sorry, but I just couldn't bloody shut up! And it's 1.20am now, and I have an excursion tomorrow, and . . . Oh, I'm a dead woman.  
  
Lyrics don't belong to me, yada, thanks Hayley for the designer thingies, I know I used them all wrong, but I'm your stereotypical Aussie. Sorry about that. Oh, there goes a kangaroo!  
  
. . . I'm kidding.  
  
Okay, here we go. Please, bear with me?  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
I was having the weirdest dream.  
  
It was way freaky. And scary, in a way. I was in the kitchen. I'd just gotten news that my mum had been in a terrible freak accident. Her WCAL work bus had gone over a cliff. She was presumed dead. I was devastated. Doc was crying. Sleepy was sleeping. Andy was silent.  
  
And Dopey was just shrugging.  
  
'Hey Dad,' he said to Andy casually, 'Probably is best if you didn't marry anymore ladies. They all die. And especially don't marry someone with a kid. Then we'd get dumped with another sister or brother. Like stupid Susie.'  
  
And then I totally beat the crap out of him, screaming 'How dare you?!'  
  
But that got me wondering . . . what had happened to Dopey's mum? She obviously didn't leave them. She must have died. But . . . this was just a dream. Maybe she did up and leave. Anyone with a son like Bradley Ackerman would have run away screaming. But with a kid like David, how could she? Poor little guy –  
  
Only this entire dream was interrupted by a distinct change of scene.  
  
It was now black. Tendrils of fog snaked across the ground. The sky was black, and the starts twinkled coldly. And of course, there was no missing the leather-clad hottie standing just across from me.  
  
Evil, twisted, murderous leather-clad hottie, but let's not be picky.  
  
'And you thought I'd left,' Paul smirked at me.  
  
I had. I had thought that he'd stop coming to me when I slept. I mean, now I knew that he actually controlled these little nightmarish trysts, and they weren't figments of my over-active imagination, it was even scarier than it had been. To know that he was purposely torturing me. I had thought that, because he'd come back to Carmel, he'd leave me alone when I was dreaming.  
  
Was I ever wrong.  
  
'Don't, please,' I whimpered pathetically. Again, we were up in the Shadowland, and he was advancing on me. I knew that running would be useless. He'd find me . . .  
  
I stumbled as I was backing away, granting Paul the ascendancy in the situation. He dropped to his knees, so each knee was either side of my hips, and pressed his hands against my shoulders, forcing me to the cold, glassy ground. Fog drifted over my face, white and asphyxiating.  
  
'For God's sake, stop it already!' I yelled at him, trying to push him off of me entirely, but since when have I ever managed to do that? Well, maybe once or twice, but it still never did much good. His face lurked somewhere above me. It was hard to tell exactly – the fog was ubiquitous and ever- moving. But he was there. Barely, I could see him still smirking in dark amusement.  
  
His hands – on my shoulders – then very slowly slid down the length of each of my arms, and to my wrists, where he locked them in his iron grip. But achieving this action caused his whole torso to sink lower – and closer to me. Including his face. I could now see all of his strong features without a problem. But there was a problem! I didn't WANT to see him that close to me! In spite of the coldness of the fog, I felt myself getting unpleasantly warm. I wriggled anxiously, and twisted my wrists, in a feeble attempt to get away from him, but it only made him clench them harder.  
  
'Do you know how long it's been since I've been with a girl?' he asked with a mock pout.  
  
I flushed a dark red.  
  
'B-been with?' I stuttered uncertainly, but he cut me off.  
  
'Yeah . . . been with,' he hinted, his eyes glinting maliciously. I choked on a breath. 'Almost a month now. It's shocking. It really is. It's like, a record for me. But I don't want to have a record, Suze,' his face edged closer to me, 'I like being consistent.'  
  
I swallowed very hard. Oh God, oh God . . .  
  
With a very uh, odd expression on his face, and this little dark, notorious look in his eyes, he gently released my hands. I stared at him. What . . . what was he doing?  
  
It was about then he placed both of his hands on my collar bone, and began running them down, down . . .  
  
Down.  
  
I gasped sharply, but felt incapable of struggling. Oh my GOD. I closed my eyes tightly, feeling my mouth open the slightest in – what? In horror? In pain?  
  
No . . .  
  
In pleasure.  
  
It was a ghastly recognition. That Paul could make me feel like that. I sucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, and turned me head to the side, straining all the muscles in my neck. Paul's hands teased my navel; his were fingers gentle but determined. Breathing roughly, and flaring my nose, I tried to ignore it. I tried to ignore what he was trying to do. What he was trying to make me feel . . .  
  
But I couldn't.  
  
'You like that,' his voice, dripping with satisfaction, intruded my mind. He, very slowly again, dipped his hand beneath my pajama shirt, and tickled his fingers up my side. I moaned, screwing my face up. Yeah, way attractive, Suze. But I wasn't trying to appear attractive. Hell, I was desperately trying to look unattractive. If it meant that Paul would stop this . . .  
  
But then, did I want him to stop? It felt so . . .  
  
Oh, help me.  
  
I felt his thumb rubbing across my sheer skin, and I stifled a cry. Dark thrills shot up and down every nerve in my body. My eyes were still closed, but I had a very bad feeling that he was smiling. In a quick movement, my own hand darted over his, with only the material of my pajamas separating us. I pushed heavily on his hand, so it would stop moving. Stop searching me.  
  
'Don't,' I said in a voice that was atrociously unlike my own – it was all breathy and thin. My eyes snapped open, and I saw that his face was now so close to mine, you could barely fit a fist between our noses. He gave me a very slow, very sexy, very seductive smile. Again, I swallowed, as the cold fog played coldly across all of my skin that was exposed. 'Paul, stop –'  
  
'No,' his lip curled, and his eyes narrowed in embryonic anger, 'No, I won't stop, Suze. This is what you want. You've been begging for this. A blind man could see it. And most importantly, I can see it. But you can't . . . well, I'm just going to have to make you see, aren't I?' he said in an animalistic growl. Uh . . . not good . . . My heat thudded shatteringly, and proceeded to do so in a more desperate rhythm when I felt his fingers go claw-like beneath mine, as he totally dropped the whole on-the-knees thing and settled for lying on me. I wheezed – the dude was kind of heavy, savvy? – as his other hand shot to the side of my face, pushing it against his now aggressively forceful lips. His other hand, which was under my top kind of, still, slipped under my back, and pushed me into him. I tried and tried turning my head away, but I couldn't. His hand was unconquerable. Iron.  
  
I, myself, remained unresponsive. Trying to push him off of me –  
  
Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream, Suze.  
  
JUST A FRICKEN DREAM.  
  
It was hurting! God, it really was. He was wrong, I didn't want this! I didn't want anything to do with him!  
  
As he was touching me now, it didn't feel nice or good or WHATEVER. It felt like he was pouring scalding hot water all over me. His roaming hand clenched my back tightly, as if he wanted to break it. My back, I mean. I was trying not to scream.  
  
And failing.  
  
'PAUL PLEASE!' I begged, thrashing about wildly. But he wasn't being merciful. Just out to satisfy himself. I mean, come on, RUDE.  
  
. . .  
  
I'll fix these broken things  
  
Repair your broken wings  
  
And make sure everything's all right  
  
.  
  
My pressure on your hips  
  
Sinking my fingertips  
  
Into every inch of you  
  
Coz I know it's what you want me to do  
  
. . .  
  
I was screaming. He was kissing me. The thrill was gone. The fear was back. It stung, and it hurt, and it – it killed . . .  
  
'DON'T!'  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Adam's POV.  
  
I was woken up very suddenly by a very loud voice? What the hell as going on?  
  
Rubbing my eyes in groggy alarm, I sat up – why was I sleeping on the floor?  
  
. . . There was someone on MY bed. Yelling blue murder. 'For God's sake, shut up, do you know what time it is –' I cut off as a string of memories flooded back.  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
Suze was staying over,  
  
I forget why.  
  
But why the hell was she yelling like that? Annoyed, I stood up, and walked over to her blearily. And whoa . . .  
  
She was totally thrashing about all over the place. 'Hey hey,' I said in panic, and grabbed her by the shoulders to try and still her. She was screaming. Shit, she'd wake up my mum. And my mum would freak and think I was trying to kill her or something. Go me.  
  
But Suze wouldn't shut up.  
  
'Suze!' I barked, 'Suze, wake up! Oi!'  
  
But then she said that frigging name . . .  
  
'Paul, DON'T!'  
  
What the?!  
  
Furious, I shook her harder. 'Suze, stop dreaming! Wake up! Come on!'  
  
And with a severe gasp, she sat up, eyes as wide as . . . er, something really wide.  
  
Whoa.  
  
She looked around desperately. Horizontal bars were cast across her face from my partially closed blinds. I steadied her. 'Suze, whoa. You were dreaming, cool it.'  
  
She was way clutching her chest. 'Oh God . . . ' she whispered, staring at her lap. Then quickly, she repositioned herself so she was hugging her knees closely into her chest, her head hidden. She was shaking.  
  
Holy crap.  
  
'Suze, come on, it was just a nightmare,' I tried to comfort her and all – I'm not the best at that kind of thing, you know – but she wasn't listening.  
  
'You don't understand,' she protested, 'it wasn't. It was real.'  
  
'It just seems like it was,' I shrugged. 'It's fine –'  
  
'Adam, it's NOT. It's real. What he's doing to me, he's done it before. He does it when I sleep. He comes to me in my dreams, and he – he . . . he hurts me,' she said in a muffled voice, peeking fearfully from above her knees.  
  
Whoa, heavy.  
  
She was staring at her wrists. Huh? I looked closer at them, and saw that she had scars there. Oh yeah, I remembered that.  
  
'He did that, right?' I said darkly.  
  
She twisted her head around and looked at me with wide, scared eyes. Then she nodded, looking away.  
  
Man, I was really going to kill that bastard . . . He was making Suze – Susannah Simon, like, the bravest chick I know – act so frightened. This was not how Suze acted. She was fearless, and cool. Not like this.  
  
I never knew she could be like this.  
  
'He's going to kill me,' she whispered to me, hiding her face behind a sheet of her dark hair.  
  
'Hey, nah,' I frowned, and did what I thought most people are supposed to do, you know? I kind of pulled her towards me, and hugged her. She seemed to calm down a little when I did that, so at least I was doing something right. Yay for me. 'You're not going to be killed or anything. If he wants to hurt you, he has to go through me first,' I growled.  
  
Suze went very tense again. 'No, Adam! God, don't say that, because he will –'  
  
'Shhhh,' I silenced her, stroking her arm a little. Wow. I'm a natural mother. I should really look into the kindergarten line of work. I have promise.  
  
She settled down again. 'Adam, I'm scared . . . '  
  
I smiled a little. 'Don't be.'  
  
'But Paul –'  
  
'Paul Schmaul,' I laughed. 'Hey, that makes sense. Because you know, "Paul" is a Latin name. And you know what it means?'  
  
'What?' she murmured softly.  
  
'Small.'  
  
She snorted.  
  
'I'm serious! So, I bet he has a swell time with the ladies,' I said. 'You know, with the magnifying glass, and the tweezers and the thimbles instead of con-'  
  
Suze just giggled. 'And what does my name mean then?'  
  
I frowned. 'Uh, Susannah? That's Hebrew, I think. It means some flower or something.'  
  
'What one?'  
  
I grinned down at her apprehensive green eyes.  
  
'A lily.'  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Suze's POV  
  
Adam drove me to school and that. I was still shaky about that last dream I'd had about Paul. I mean, was it just me being over-imaginative? Or was he really trying to torment me again? Oh God no. I didn't think that I could handle that again. I had been near breaking point last time he'd been at that gig. I wasn't sure if I could survive another round of seeing him when I slept as well as when I was awake.  
  
If they were dreams, why could I feel the pain that strong?  
  
I still wasn't sure about Jesse. I mean, was he still mad at me for acting like a bitch to the bitch? I mean, Querida? Or was he just wondering if his beautiful Susannah was safe from the likes of Paul Slater? Probably not . . .  
  
I dunno. Maybe I underestimated how Jesse felt about me. You know, like, took if for granted? Or maybe he took ME for granted! Yeah, like how guilty would he feel if one day I just WASN'T THERE? HUH? TELL ME THAT JESSE.  
  
. . . I need therapy.  
  
No sooner than Miss Phillips saying that class was over, the crackly PA sounded out. 'Could Susannah Simon please come to the front office please? Susannah Simon?'  
  
I turned a customary shade of burgundy, and groaned, grabbing my school books and stuff and hightailing it to the holy man's office.  
  
Hehehe . . . holy man.  
  
Oh, shut up.  
  
Planting myself in a seat in front of his desk, I said, in a very bad imitation of Lurch from the Addam's Family, 'You rang?'  
  
Hell, I dunno if he even says that. But I said it anyway. So sue me.  
  
Looking up from paper work, Father Dominic fiddled with his glasses anxiously. 'Susannah, how are you?'  
  
'Recovering from a near death experience, actually, and yourself?' I gave him a dazzling smile.  
  
He wasn't amused.  
  
'Susannah, please, this isn't the time to joke. There was a murder last night.'  
  
'Whoa, tact much?' I groaned. 'Way to bum me out even more –'  
  
'Hush.' He handed me the Carmel Pine Cone – you know, the paper. I read it pretty nonchalantly. 'Yeah, and that has to do with us, what?'  
  
'Well, there may be a ghost –'  
  
'No ghost,' I informed him.  
  
He stared at me. 'How do you know –'  
  
'"The victim, a teenage girl between sixteen to eighteen, was found in the alley between Hudson and Marsh's Secondhand Bookstore, and the Zodiac Print shop on Jettison Street. The victim had suffered severe bruising and wounding to the neck area." I happen to know that she is not a ghost, Padre. She is either very dead, or a vampire.'  
  
He frowned at me, and stood up in annoyance. 'Susannah, simply because it states that there was trauma to her neck, it doesn't mean that –'  
  
'I happened to be wandering around Jettison St. last night,' I said indignantly, sitting back in the chair and crossing my legs. He gave me an inquisitive look. 'Don't ask,' I rolled my eyes. 'But there was a brief encounter with one of our fanged friends.'  
  
'The Beaumont boy?' Father Dom asked, sitting back down.  
  
'Nup. Someone he bit, thought,' I said. 'Or . . . no. It couldn't have been him. He got turned into a vampire AFTER I went over to his house that time and got him all suspicious about his dad, which totally leads to the fact that I'm purely responsible for his current blood-craving, sun-shy condition . . . but no need to point out the obvious,' I babbled on, feeling rueful.  
  
Father Dom was kind of staring at me. 'I . . . I see,' he said slowly. Only I doubt he did. See, I mean.  
  
That was when I saw a shower of blue from the corner. I know, it could have been ANYONE, but I still freaked, and totally fell out of the chair.  
  
But God, it was only little Timmy.  
  
'Suze!' he squealed, running up to me and giving me a big hug. 'You're not dead!'  
  
Uh . . . yay?  
  
'Nope,' I grinned doubtfully, arching my eyebrows at Father Dom, who was smiling fondly at Timmy.  
  
Tim beamed complacently into my shoulder. 'I missed you,' he shrugged. 'And I was worried that that Paul man beat you up again.'  
  
'Well, he tried, but –' I stopped, and Father Dom looked at me sharply.  
  
'Susannah? You've seen him since that incident yesterday?' he demanded.  
  
'Um . . . well, technically no,' I shifted awkwardly. No, not SHIFTED actually. Just the normal shifting, the human kind, thanks.  
  
'Susannah . . .'  
  
'I had another dream about him, okay?' I snapped very quickly. 'But I'm fine. I wasn't, but I am now. It was freaky, but then Adam told me that my name meant Lily in Hebrew and that Paul mean Small and I calmed down and –'  
  
'Who's Adam?' chirped Timmy, swinging his arms around playfully. I paled again. 'Um . . . nothing,' I said, looking cautiously at Father Dom, who wasn't too impressed.  
  
'Susannah, what happened in this dream?' he was scowling disapprovingly at me. And this is the guy you go to for reconciliation. Yay. 'Nothing important,' I said, blushing deeply. My face felt very, very hot.  
  
'Well, it could be. What –'  
  
'NOTHING, okay?!' I yelled at him, throwing myself back into the chair and crossing my arms, 'Why do you all jump to conclusions that something is happening between me and –'  
  
'Susannah,' Father Dom said in bafflement, 'For goodness sake, calm down. I was merely enquiring about dream. It could have some symbolic significance –'  
  
'Well, it doesn't,' I sulked, glowering at nothing in particular. I know, SO mature. But hey, why did Father Dom think that something was going on between us? Me and Paul, I mean, not me and Father Dom. Ew . . . I mean, that CPR was completely last resort, guys. No ideas, please? But it wasn't just him. Everyone lately seemed to think that something was happening.  
  
(A/N: Or maybe someone just has a guilty conscience, Suze. Hmm . . . think about that?)  
  
Well, there was nothing. So screw everyone who thought there was.  
  
Grrr . . .  
  
'Be that as it may, Susannah, I still suggest that this murder of this girl merits further investigation. Tonight, we can –'  
  
I panicked. 'Tonight?'  
  
'Yes, I can –'  
  
'Busy,' I said quickly.  
  
He looked at me suspiciously. 'I've . . .um, I have heaps of homework. Big project about . . . '  
  
Parties with my friends?  
  
'. . . World War, um, four. I mean, one. Yeah. You know, with the guns, and the navy people?'  
  
Tim sniggered. 'It's fun blowing people up.'  
  
We stared at him.  
  
'On the X Box,' he said quickly.  
  
My my, computer influences these days . . .  
  
My priest friend didn't look very happy. Or convinced. But still, the slight chance that I might have been taking my schoolwork seriously, well, he wasn't going to question that and drag me out of this possible delusion.  
  
'Well, if that is so, I suppose this can wait.'  
  
You bet it can, dude.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Feeling a little sleepy, I had a hot shower. The hot water trailed down my body soothingly, cleansing my suspected oily skin. I rubbed a splodge of Herbal Essence into my stressed out hair, feeling it go all silky beneath my fingers. I mean, in the water, it went dead straight. Out – well . . . it was very curly. Aaah, lovely shower . . . It would wake me up for the party.  
  
I mean, come on, I needed this. Don't look at me like that. So I lied to a priest. What? It wasn't as if writing about people dying was different to a party.  
  
. . . Well, um, okay, it WAS. But so what? I needed a break! After everything that was happening, I needed a time out.  
  
Badly.  
  
I mean, seriously. If I didn't go to this shindig, I was going to get WRINKLES. And GREYS.  
  
Then how bad would everyone feel?  
  
Yeah. Thought so.  
  
Selecting oh so carefully, I pulled out this neat little white denim skirt that I totally got for half the retail price. It was Jordache; very cute. Well . . . okay, it was kind of short. Okay, as in half of my thigh short . . . but it wasn't as if it was MICRO-MINI or something. And seriously, my legs are nice. Jesse said it to his little sister, so therefore, it must be true!  
  
. . . You don't have to say it.  
  
I know I suck.  
  
Oh dear, dear, dear.  
  
Anyhoo. I then, after much deliberation, decided upon a little slinky, glittery, black spaghetti strapped tank top that had this little black beaded butterfly on the left side. The edge of the top had this totally cute beaded stringy edging, that kind of swayed as you moved around, chinking ever so slightly. And the front of it dipped into a decent V, nothing to skanky, but enough to, you know, look all sexy and stuff.  
  
I let my hair dry naturally, and rubbed in some leave-in conditioner which was meant to enhance curls. Whether it did, I didn't know. But Gina said it worked. And I trust Gina. So in conditioner I trust too.  
  
And after I was finished applying some make up – you know, a little mascara here, a little liner there, a bit o' foundation, bit o' rouge, lippy, gloss – um, sorry, rambling . . . um yeah, I slid into some black mini-stiletto Jimmy Choos. I'd broken them, first. Ha, wouldn't it be funny if I like, had to run a million miles from Paul in shoes I HADN'T broken? Ha, how ironic would that be?  
  
(A/N: Yeah . . . ironic . . .)  
  
A very nice pair of golden earrings dangled from my earlobes – you know, junk jewelry. Nothing special. Nay the gold bracelets on my wrist.  
  
But as far as necklaces went, I hadn't changed from the golden Shaman pendant I'd received from Jesse. It . . . I dunno, it really, really meant something to me. I didn't want to take it off . . .  
  
Over-romantic of me, I know. Considering how I wasn't even sure if the supplier even still liked me, after the way I acted, and the way his new friend had accted around him. You know? With the "I'm so cold. Warm me up" thing.  
  
Frowning acrimoniously by then, I spritzed on some Ralph Lauren perfume that I'd embezzled from my mother, but stopped while I was doing so.  
  
Lilies.  
  
It was scented with lilies.  
  
I smiled a soft little smile, and then put it back in my cupboard, looking up in the mirror of my bathroom. Neat. I looked pretty hot, if I do say so myself. Sophisticated.  
  
Normal.  
  
Serious. Never, in a million, billion, even trillion years, would you suspect that under that all Maybelline lurked one very complicated girl, who had enough love life dilemmas to last a million, billion, even trillion years.  
  
I blinked at my reflection. Yay. Gina had been right. The conditioner had come through for me, to my advantage. The now dry curls were all very individual and very pretty, giving my face a very soft, feminine look.  
  
And I smelled of fragrant lilies.  
  
Things were looking up.  
  
Grabbing my black Kate Spade, I ran out of my room and down the stairs, standing in front of the door, and waiting for Adam when –  
  
'Where, exactly, do you think you are going, young lady?'  
  
I winced. Oooh. That didn't sound good at all.  
  
Tentatively, I spun around. Mum stood there, hands on hips, looking exceptionally pissed. As in, narrowed eyes, pursed lips, flared nostrils, expectantly raised eyebrows, the works.  
  
'Um . . . church?'  
  
Lame. I know. LAME!  
  
She looked at my outfit. 'As if you'd be going to church wearing that, and on a school night. A Tuesday night, at that.'  
  
'Okay,' I admitted, shrugging, 'A party. No biggie.'  
  
'Suze,' Mum said angrily, marching up to me, 'Don't you think for one minute that I would let you go. You are grounded.'  
  
WHAT?! NOOOOOO!!!  
  
'Why?' I demanded. 'What have I done –'  
  
'I called CeeCee, Father Dominic, everyone last night!' she exploded at me. 'You said that you were staying at CeeCee's and you weren't! Suze, how can I trust you? If Jake is right when he tells me that you are in a gang of some sort, well, I don't know what to do with you. I really don't. But I am ashamed if –'  
  
'Mum!' I cried in outrage. And hurt, yeah. 'As IF! Come on, yeah, me totally going to a GANG bang in this outfit. Going to trash the school, knock over a couple more Junipero Serra statues, because ONE just wasn't enough for me and my big scary gangster mates –'  
  
'Susannah, that's ENOUGH!' she shouted at me, stamping her foot. I kind of received that with a blow. I mean, not only does mum never get this mad, but well . . . that was what Jesse said to me yesterday. The "Susannah" bit and everything.  
  
I blinked at her. 'I was kidding.'  
  
'Well, I'm not,' she snapped. 'Now go up to your room and take that silly make up off. You are too old to be this irresponsible –'  
  
'But I didn't do anything!' I protested.  
  
'Do you have any idea how worried I was last night when I couldn't find you? I rang up to tell Mrs Webb that you forgot your sleeping bag, and she had no idea what I was talking about! And we both were in a state, worried that you were lying in some dark alley where that poor girl, Melanie Spriggs was found this morning . . . you have no idea how scary it is, to know that one day I might have to wake up, go to WCAL, and do a missing persons report on you, sweetie,' Mum said, giving me a very emotional look. 'I worry so much about you. You've been so good since Brooklyn, and last night, you had to go spoil all of that.' She sniffed, and instantly, I felt very, very bad.  
  
'Mum . . .' I said slowly, 'I didn't . . . I wasn't . . . I'm really, really sorry –'  
  
She sighed, still staring at me, all motherly and disappointed.  
  
I inwardly cringed. I hate it when mum is mad. Or upset with me. It just reminds me so much of when I was the Teen Terror back in New York, always getting hauled in by the police, and mum crying at night, asking God and crap why they took her husband away from her, and why I couldn't be a normal teenage girl. Here, mum had been happy, with Andy and stuff. And I had been a good little daughter. Not wearing so much black, anyway. But yeah.  
  
'Mum,' I said feeling very low by then, 'I'm sorry. CeeCee, well, she and I had a spat, and I got annoyed and slept at Adam's instead. Remember? That guy that Dope – I mean, Brad called a fag?' I added, in case she needed a little false persuasion about Adam'' sexuality. He'' kill me, but he wasn't even here yet. So blah.  
  
Mum's lips twitched, and she sighed again. Enough with the sighs already! 'Okay, Suze,' she reasoned. 'Go to this party. But be sure to be back by . . . I don't know, one good for you?'  
  
I was surprised. 'Um, sure.' I was expecting something stupid like ten or something.  
  
She smiled a little. 'Don't drink, honey. And if any nice guys, you know, ask you to –'  
  
'Mum!' I snapped, 'ew!'  
  
She grinned knowingly, 'All I'm saying is, invite them over to dinner first, so I can make sure that they are good enough for you. And to see if they have a last name that's not too embarrassing.'  
  
Okay, for a start, I was still involved with someone! Susannah de Silva sounded PERFECT. So ner to mum. But I didn't want to say that just in case I was wrong, and Jesse really did . . . really was . . . um . . .yeah, that.  
  
'Suze? Is this a good time to give you a hug? Or would that be too embarrassing for you or something? I don't really know about girls at your age, with the mother-affection thing. I'm not sure –'  
  
'Nah, hugging is cool,' I smiled. 'Especially with a mum as great as you. Thanks for worrying mum, but really. I can handle myself.'  
  
And voila with the hugs. Aww . . . come on, mock me if you will.  
  
But I bet your mum isn't as great as mine.  
  
So there.  
  
Adam's horn suddenly tooted into our little mother/daughter moment.  
  
'Oh, um, I'll see you at one,' she shrugged.  
  
'Yeah.'  
  
'Susie . . . take care.'  
  
What MAGNIFICENT advice.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
I was feeling kind of sleepy. So, in the back seat of Adam's car, I had a little lie down. Which CeeCee was perfectly happy with. Meaning, she got to sit up front with Adam. I'm sure he was happy with that too, deep under all of those layers.  
  
You know, those knowing-Hebrew-name-meanings/actually-possessing-a-mature- side layers.  
  
But damn those two crazy kids, they were still avoiding conversation, simply looking at each other. Hell, CeeCee twitched when Adam bumped her hand to reach for the gear stick. And so did Adam.  
  
Man, this was going to be a fun party.  
  
Fun for all the family.  
  
Yeah. For sure.  
  
CeeCee was dressed in this very sleek looking outfit, with black capris, and her trade-mark polo neck. It was a cobalt blue colour, though, and looked stunning against her white-blond hair, which was in a very chic half twist. And I'd forced her to wear this totally cute belt, too, which set the whole look off. You know, the classy-yet-cool look.  
  
Adam wasn't doing so bad himself. He was clad in a cherry red Tommy Hilfiger shirt, and khaki cargos. Hehehe. While it wasn't the height of heterosexuality, there was no comment.  
  
Oh well, it was better than Tad, in his silk tee, with his Porsche . . . I mean, talk about gigolo wannabe.  
  
But yeah, you could say I was preoccupied.  
  
So that was why I didn't protest about the destination of said party until we actually got there.  
  
And I kind of freaked.  
  
'Whoa, is this the place?' CeeCee asked with a slow grin. 'It's a little big.'  
  
'The bigger the better,' Adam said sloppily, 'To mock Suze's little blond episode earlier of course,' he added when CeeCee shot him a "are you sure you're not a homosexual?" look.  
  
Waking up from my half-asleep state, I sat upwards.  
  
'Oh, crap,' I muttered.  
  
'Yeah, it's a little overwhelming, aye,' Adam agreed.  
  
'No . . . CeeCee,' I hissed, 'This is Tad's house.'  
  
CeeCee twisted around to look at me sharply. 'You're joking. The vamp-'  
  
'Vandal!' I cut her off quickly with an energetic click of my fingers, giving her a glare. 'Yeah. You know rich kids these days, so suppressed and all, going out of their way to be rebellious –'  
  
'Were you going to say vampire?' Adam asked with irritation, 'because you have told me, remember?'  
  
I blanched a little. 'Uh, yeah. That's right. I knew that.'  
  
We all exited the car, my anxiety increasing by the second.  
  
'Oh look, there's Jesse for you!' CeeCee squealed, 'And he's brought . . . um . . . oh, whoa. A sister?'  
  
'Whoa,' agreed Adam.  
  
I turned around, and saw a TOTALLY HOT Jesse, dressed in black jeans and a black shirt with a black denim jacket tugged casually over the top – I couldn't see any brand names or anything from here - helping a very dainty looking Querida Andres out of his not-so-dainty looking Cadilac.  
  
I glared acidly, and spun away.  
  
'Yeah,' I said. 'So let's go party then –'  
  
'That's her?' asked Adam, his mouth open slightly. 'That's the Spanish chick? Well, I can see why you'd be upset –'  
  
'Adam!' CeeCee elbowed him.  
  
Adam snapped out of it, and saw that I was looking a little hurt. 'I mean . . . that was my sarcastic voice.'  
  
'Oddly enough, it sounded like your "wow there's one hot babe" voice,' I responded succinctly.  
  
CeeCee looked pained. 'I'm sure that she's just a . . . a friend?' she suggested. 'You know –'  
  
'Not likely,' I said. 'He spent all of his holiday in Spain with her.'  
  
The loud music coming from the house was now starting to really annoy me. I looked up the long driveway, to where the huge Beaumont mansion was. Seriously, why would a rich guy like Thaddeus Beaumont, vampire loser extraordinare, host a party like this? Just for his son, Tad, who he'd most recently turned into a blood sucking fiend too? Because if that was so, well, this party sure was going to be hoppin'.  
  
In a deadly kind of way.  
  
I started to really freak out by then, forgetting Jesse and Querida. I mean, what if that was all this party was? A trap to get a bunch of seemingly oblivious kids together, just so they could have a fang-fest? Oh my God . . . I couldn't even take Tara the Newbie. How could I take a – possibly – house full of vampires?  
  
And without stakes?  
  
Oh, GOD, even No. 2 Pencils?!  
  
'Simon, what's your glitch?' asked CeeCee curiously. 'You look . . . weird.'  
  
'Neurotic. Ashen. Eccentric. Like you're going to barf, like,' Adam added most necessarily.  
  
And I kind of did feel like that.  
  
Because I suddenly had a terrible feeling that tonight wasn't going to be a night where I could just relax. Oh, no.  
  
Well, it was going to be a fight to the death then.  
  
Vamps vs. Susannah the Lily.  
  
Oh, so one-sided.  
  
Unless Jesse God-is-gracious De Silva lent a hand.  
  
. . . So I'd asked Adam what "Jesse" mean. Sue me, why don't you?  
  
As the security guard, who looked alarmingly pale, let us through the tall gates, I kind of gulped. I didn't share my extreme qualms with CeeCee and Adam. They were here purely to have a good time. And hell, if that was what they wanted, that was what they were going to get. A stupid crucifix repelled creep could spoil my night of fun, but not my friends'. Nope, not a chance.  
  
Yeah, a girl can dream?  
  
The grass was very green. I noticed that. The moon was very big and round and bright. I noticed that too. The stars were twinkling frigidly. Also taken into account. The music was loud and funky, and there were dancing bodies all over the place, inside the house – I could see though the revealing windows – and out. I could see a bunch of jocks gathered around a kegger, laughing and eyeing a group of girls who were giggling furiously nearby.  
  
And joy of joys, there was Kelly nacho-platter-for-brains Prescott. Wearing a tailored hot pink dress, no less. It wasn't too easy on the eyes, let me tell you.  
  
'Hey, Suze,' she acknowledged. 'McTavish. Webb.'  
  
'Hi, Kelly,' Adam said in exaggerated excitement. 'Hey, where'd you get that dress? I want one just like it for my scarecrow! Really scare the crows – and the humans.'  
  
Kelly tossed her hair. 'Yeah, whatever McTavish. Just because you look like shit.'  
  
CeeCee glared. 'Hey, Kell. Speaking of scarecrows, sung "If I only had a brain" recently?'  
  
Kelly looked highly insulted, her mouth opened in shock.  
  
'Please, don't make her sing again!' Adam begged, holding his ears and screwing up his nose. 'Memories of fourth grade choir, NO!'  
  
'Hey, thanks for letting me borrow those clothes,' I said lightly, seeing the impending bitch slap that Adam was earning himself.  
  
'Whatever, Simon,' she snapped. 'God, when are you going to ditch the dork and the albino? They totally weigh you down.'  
  
I shrugged. 'Nah, I'm fine with my friends, thanks. They actually like me?'  
  
'What the hell is that supposed to –' she began, but then Debbie and - gag – Dopey came stumbling over.  
  
Apparently, very drunk.  
  
'Hi, Suze – hic! – and you all,' Debbie slurred at me, leaning heavily into Dopey. 'We were just going to get a room because we're soooo wasted –'  
  
'I think we've seen enough stereotypical youth stupidity,' CeeCee rolled her eyes, pulling Adam and me away from Kelly, Debbie and Dopey.  
  
All dopes in their own rights, of course.  
  
CeeCee lead us through the doors of the fabulous mansion. Everyone there was having a seemingly great time. A DJ was in the corner, bopping to the steady beat of the music. Another bunch of jocks were ditching ice at each other, and some guy roared, 'Duuuude! Cool party! Way to go Beaumont!'  
  
I froze, and looked around frantically.  
  
And there, in a darker corner, Tad leant casually against a pillar, eyeing me with a very dubious smile. It was very "I know what you did last summer" and all.  
  
Sheesh . . .  
  
'Suze? Suze are you coming?' CeeCee asked me, giving me a tug.  
  
Dazed, and blinked and stared at her. 'Huh?'  
  
She rolled her eyes. 'Are you – hey, what were you staring at?'  
  
I looked back quickly, but Tad was gone.  
  
Oh God . . .  
  
Well, the party wasn't as great as I thought it would be. Especially, when the DJ chucked on a slow dancing song.  
  
To my partial ecstasy, Adam asked CeeCee if she would be kind enough to not make him look like a loner. She was kind enough.  
  
Well, it was a start.  
  
But me? Well, I looked around for Jesse, and all . . .  
  
But noooo. He's too busy, slow-dancing with his hot date. Queer-ida Andres.  
  
I guess that kind of stung, and all. Just, like, seeing her with her arms around his neck like that. I mean, sure, Jesse wasn't even looking her, but still. He totally knew I was at the party. So WHY was he doing that? To purposely hurt me? to get back at me for being such a bitch the previous night? What?  
  
I guess I was staring at them pretty intensely, because next thing, I felt a poke in my shoulder, and I actually jumped.  
  
'Sorry, uh, wanna dance with me?' this guy asked. He was tall and blond, and looked pretty, well . . . thick. SO not my type of guy. Ever? I'm not so into blonds. But with a second glance at Jesse and Querida on the dance floor, only a few partners away from the intense looking Adam and CeeCee, I muttered, 'Sure. I'd love to.'  
  
He grinned, turned around, gave a bunch of jocks an animated thumbs up, very Wiggles and all, and escorted me onto the dance floor. Or, the area where everyone was dancing, and stuff.  
  
You're kidding me.  
  
I wanted revenge, but did my revenge have to be so dim-witted?  
  
Well, I asked for it, I guess.  
  
He – Will, as he introduced himself as – placed his hands on my hips, and I set my own around his neck, and rested my head on his – let's face it – pathetic excuse for a chest. I mean, once you've see Jesse, there was no such thing as a better chest.  
  
Or even P-  
  
SHUT UP SUZE.  
  
I gulped, as Will and I rotated in slow, graceful steps. Well, again, he wasn't exactly the best dancer either. He stepped on my feet so many times, I lost count.  
  
That was when Jesse looked away from Querida, and locked his eyes with me.  
  
I stared at him in alarm, and kind of froze.  
  
'Uh, Susan? You still alive?' Will hooted, 'Ha, alive, funny, ha . . . '  
  
Shaking my head fast and looking away from Jesse indignantly, I said, 'Uh, yeah. Sorry, I was just, um –'  
  
But he wasn't exactly interested in my "um" apology.  
  
In fact, he wasn't interested in much apart from mouthing energetically to all his friends, who were cheering him on and were making some very tasteless movements that appeared to involve me. Oh for God's sake, I was pissed at Jesse, but STILL.  
  
I jerked away from Will. 'Sorry, I gotta go,' I snapped at him, and went back to sitting in a vacant chair. I seized a cup of something, and downed it.  
  
Oops. That must have been alcoholic.  
  
Or at least, spiked.  
  
Ah. Not good. I frowned, and leaned back in the chair, fanning myself. Oh, God. The song changed again. Another slow-dancing song began serenading. Great. Just freaking FAB.  
  
Oooh, head. Yuck.  
  
I closed my eyes. Was it just me? Or did this party SUCK?  
  
'Susannah, are you all right?'  
  
My eyes snapped open. Above me, Jesse stood, all tall, dark and handsome. He was looking way sexy-romantic and all in his black outfit. The way that his hair fell across his forehead and behind his ears was just so perfect and so totally hot that I could feel myself melting –  
  
NO.  
  
I glared, crossed my arms and looked away brusquely.  
  
'Dandy. Now shoo.'  
  
He sat down beside me stubbornly. 'Susannah, please. That little stunt wasn't very effective. I have to ask this; why are you jealous of Querida?'  
  
I looked at him sharply. And threw out a little laugh, too. You know, for authenticity as stuff. 'Me? Jealous of HER? As if. Don't flatter yourself, De Silva. I wouldn't be jealous of –'  
  
'Someone who asked me to slow-dance,' he interrupted hintingly.  
  
I stared at him. What was he trying to say? That he didn't want to dance with her? Impossible? What straight guy wouldn't want to dance with her?  
  
I voiced this out loud. But dammit, it only served to make him smile.  
  
But his response kind of made me smile, you know?  
  
'Someone who is in love with Susannah Simon,' he said, bowing his head gallantly.  
  
I blushed furiously, and my eyes flickered back to his. My heart began to race a little. Could he . . . could he still like me?  
  
Oh for God's sake, Suze! Of course the dude likes you! He just said that he LOVED you, God dammit!  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
I gave him a very warm smile. But then I dropped it.  
  
'Jesse . . . God, I feel shitty now. I'm really sorry about yesterday. I suck, I know it. I was just all happy that you and I were going to have some alone time and then Querida showed up with her Spanish accent and her "I'm cold" routine and I got all mad because you gave her your jacket and that meant that if I said that I was cold there would be no jacket for me and then I just got really pissed because she kept looking at you like she owned you and she kept looking at me like I was this stupid bug that had crawled onto her un-English speaking shoe-'  
  
Yeah, as if shoes could talk, any language.  
  
But all of that didn't matter, because about then, Jesse placed a single finger on my lips, grinning secretively. I frowned at him. 'What?' I demanded.  
  
He chuckled a little, sending my heart into a little pleasant tizzy. 'You are just so adorable.'  
  
I blushed even harder.  
  
Really? Aww . . .  
  
And with that, Jesse extended his hand to me. 'Would you like to –'  
  
'Yeah,' I cut in.  
  
Whoa, a little keen there Suze?  
  
'I mean, yes,' I said. What I was saying yes to, I didn't know. 'Um, what is it that I would like to do again?'  
  
Again, he smiled amiably. 'Well, I was going to say, would you like to pick up from yesterday before we were interrupted from my friend,' he stressed the word, 'but if you would prefer to dance –'  
  
'Picking up is fine!' I half-squeaked.  
  
Oh got, could I get any more pathetic?  
  
'I mean . . . um, picking up from where we left of, not actual, ACTUAL picking up of –'  
  
But he totally grinned, and pulled me into the nearest vacant room which was, fair enough, what looked like a library.  
  
But I was so not complaining.  
  
So there we were, kissing ever so passionately, nearly knocking over the bookshelves all together. I gasped for breath, as my heart was beating so fast, I felt like it was going to explode in happiness. Jesse loved me! YAY!  
  
'Susannah,' Jesse panted. 'You . . . you smell like lilies.'  
  
'You noticed.'  
  
'Yes, it's a beautiful scent. You are even more beautiful,' he added, capturing my lips in another spine-tingling kiss.  
  
Aww, squidgy! In a kind of cheesy way, but still, the kiss totally made up for all cheesiness.  
  
(A.N: Mmm . . . cheese . . .)  
  
That was about when a voice interrupted.  
  
'Hey Suze. Nice to see you again . . . '  
  
I broke away from Jesse with a jolt.  
  
Tad stood against the doorframe, his head down, looking at me in amusement from a dark angle. Jesse stiffened in my embrace.  
  
I felt my blood – my own and the transfused – run horribly cold . . .  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Oooh . . . again, sorry for the length. It's now real late. Please review? Show me that my late-nights aren't completely worthless for you wonderful people?  
  
Oh, I'm yawning. Well, tell me what you thought! With the Jesse stuff, and the dream, and how stupid that Will dude was, and the CeeCee/Adam advancement, and . . . yeah. Say what you think is gonna happen too. It's kind of obvious. But yeah.  
  
Regards, Very tired MystAngel. 


	20. Addicted

I KNOW I haven't been on since forever! I've been doing some stuff lately, and it's sucked up every square inch of my time!  
  
...Is time even flat?  
  
I dunno.  
  
But... HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MEG'S NEW BOOKCLUB?!?! www.megcabotbookclub.com!!! OMG, it's AWESOME!!!  
  
Okay. Personally, I hate this chapter. I really do. You agree? Do let me know at the end, won't you? I think, if I really hate it, I'll repost it after thorough editing.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
'Who is this?'  
  
Jesse's voice – deep, accented, condemning – punctured through my thoughts, pulling me back down into the reality that faced me.  
  
Who is this?  
  
That is what he said. Jesse knew nothing of what Tad had done. He didn't know that Tad had my blood running through him this very second. That part of me now belonged to Tad Beaumont.  
  
Tad just grinned at me. He thought this was funny. What, that he'd gone from being simply my rebound guy to a creature of the night? It was kind of freaky, you know?  
  
'Um, no one, Jesse,' I said to him. 'Just, uh . . . no one –'  
  
'Ah, so you're the legendary Jesse,' Tad nodded his head, his grin growing wider. 'You're the guy that started all of this.'  
  
. . . Uh, what?  
  
I knit my eyebrows. What the hell?  
  
Jesse was obviously just as confused as I was. He frowned at Tad. 'I do not understand you,' he burred with a quiet resonance. 'Please leave.'  
  
Tad laughed a little. 'Nah, you wouldn't know me. It's not like we've ever met. But me and Susie, we go way back.'  
  
'In your dreams,' I snapped at him, edging closer to Jesse slightly. By saying that, I was vaguely reminded of my own dreams of late, but I shoved them roughly from my mind. Just the memory of it placed a heavy lead-weight of my heart from the guilt I felt.  
  
'She dances very well,' Tad told Jesse, stepping into the room. His apparel had not changed – it was still very uh, queer looking. Hehehe . . . gay apparel. Isn't that from Deck the Halls? The Christmas carol?  
  
Oh, go me.  
  
But . . . oh no he wasn't . . . he was going to – to totally dob me in that I'd gone to him when Jesse was in festive Spain! Oh crap!  
  
Which would lead to marks that could be confused with hickeys.  
  
Great.  
  
'Dances –?' Jesse began, but I cut him off hurriedly.  
  
'Tad, get lost,' I gave him a glare. 'We're busy.'  
  
'Yeah, I can see that,' he remarked, stepping further into the room. I gulped a little and subconsciously stepped back. He was still grinning. It looked odd on him, to be grinning like that. His skin wasn't as nearly as tanned as it had been when I had first met him. I met, yeah, it had that brown shade to it, but there was no redness there. The blood behind his skin wasn't there anymore.  
  
He was undead.  
  
The only thing I hoped that Jesse didn't know was that he was the one who bit me. I mean, I never told Jesse who actually bit me, right? Hell, did I even tell Jesse I got bitten at all? Sheesh . . . damn alcohol . . . my head was all in a fuzzy wuzz.  
  
I pressed my fingers against my temple and winced. 'Tad, I'm serious, I'm totally not in the mood to kick your –'  
  
'How's your neck, Suze?' he interrupted slyly.  
  
I blanched. I probably went paler than him, too. I couldn't really think straight anymore, that stupid, STUPID spiked drink! My head was pounding, and Tad was kind of blurry, you know?  
  
And . . . swirrrrrrrrly . . .  
  
'Tad, shut up –'  
  
'Oh, it got better? I mean, it was looking really nasty last time I looked at it,' he shrugged, taking another step inside the room.  
  
I totally went stiff. Jesse's hands wandered to my back, and I felt a soothing hand touch my spine, but it didn't really calm me down. After, you know, I'd just made up with Jesse, I wasn't going to let some try-hard, fanged New Jersey DICKWIT ruin things again!  
  
But he was totally intent on doing just that. You could tell.  
  
'Last time he –?'  
  
'Jesse, ignore him. He's someone I met at Kelly Prescott's party. He asked me to dance and I didn't want to be rude because Kelly had already yelled at me for turning him down because she kind of has a crush on him and so I had to dance with him but I totally didn't want to and I sure as hell didn't enjoy it –'I paused for a quick breath, '–because no one can slow dance like you but you were in Spain with Querida and telling your sister that I have nice legs and stuff – you do too, by the way – so I just thought that maybe I had better not be mean and so I agreed to dance –' I stopped suddenly, as my mind jerked very harshly, and I staggered sideways into Jesse.  
  
'Susannah?' Jesse asked with an evident note of panic. He held my shoulders with gently firmness, as I seemed to, like, fold up or something into him, 'Susannah, are you all right? Susannah, look at –'  
  
'I . . . I don't feel so good,' I said slowly, my head roaring by then. God, lose the booze much?! 'Jesse, uh . . . I wanna go home –'  
  
'Yes, I will take you home. I will go and get Querida and I will drive you –'  
  
'She's not going anywhere,' Tad interrupted.  
  
My forehead creased as I tucked my elbows into myself, holding my head still. 'Huh? Who died and made you mum?'  
  
Tad ignored me, and turned back to Jesse. His whole mannerism – from when he'd been alive – had changed. His posture was a lot more . . . sly. His eyes were more narrowed and cynical, and he didn't look like such an airhead anymore. He looked like he was out to make trouble. Of the serious variety.  
  
'I thought that you might be interested to know, Jesse, that little Spanish chick you came with? Well . . . it's best not to leave her alone. There's all sorts of leeches around here who'd like nothing better than to . . . ' he spread his hands eloquently, 'Well, you know.'  
  
'What are you saying?' growled Jesse, holding me protectively into him as if he sensed something very wrong also.  
  
Hang on . . . leeches.  
  
CRAP!  
  
'Jesse, go and get her now!' I yelled at him urgently, pushing myself away, 'Bring her here! Get her away from everyone! Don't let one of his – 'I jerked my thumb at Tad '- friends get her alone!'  
  
'Susannah, what is going –'  
  
'Jesse, just do it!' I shrilled.  
  
What? So what if the girl was bacteria to me? I wasn't going to LET her get bitten by one of Tad's lot. I, unlike some, am a good person.  
  
Hence the "GO JESSE GO!" thing.  
  
With a confused look, Jesse breezed past Tad, and ran out. I went to follow, but Tad grabbed me around the waist, and pushed my back into the library. I tried to run out again, but in my not-so-sober state, I kind of . . . ran into a wall.  
  
Ow...  
  
'I told you, you're not going anywhere.'  
  
I stared at him as the scene playing before my eyes gave a menacing jerk. Stupid liquor . . . I am NEVER becoming an alcoholic. Drown in your sorrows my ASS. 'I . . . you're a bad guy, and you're going to die because you're a . . . bad person . . . who . . . oooh, yuck.' I held my head.  
  
'Well, now that he's out of the way,' Tad said, all business-like.  
  
Huh? What – HEY!  
  
'You LIED?' I gasped, like it was the last thing that I expected someone as nice and friendly as TAD to do. God, I really was drunk. 'You LIED to me?!'  
  
He laughed. I don't blame him. I must have looked pretty pathetic, on the floor, my eyes going spastic, and my mouth all droopy. Who . . . I was gonna pound whoever spiked my drink . . . that was NOT a nice thing to do . . . I felt icky now, and icky isn't a nice feeling no. No, no, no, icky is bad and icky and . . .  
  
'Well, this certainly isn't working as fast as he told me it would,' Tad said. I wasn't looking at him anymore. I was looking at his feet. They were a no-name brand. How OFF was that? Someone as rich as him wasn't wearing a brand name. I'm seriously thinking that Tad Beaumont is gay. Smelly fag . . .  
  
Serious. Total poofiness, the lot of him!  
  
'Oh whatever,' Tad's voice said carelessly. That was when I felt a cloth being placed over my nose and mouth. Something smelt funny, or gas-like . . . it made me sleepy –  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
'She's only been out for five minutes!'  
  
I blinked lazily. Oooh, swirlies, yuck. Why was my head hurting so bloody much? Ew, not hot.  
  
'It'll be fine, I want her awake . . . '  
  
HEY! WHAT WAS PAUL DOING HERE?!?!  
  
I forced my eyes open about then. Shit! I was lying down on a table, on my side . . . I didn't know where. There were . . . tropical fish . . . Aquarium . . .  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
I was in Mr Beaumont's office.  
  
You're kidding me . . .  
  
But hey, it gets better. What do you know, my hands were tied up. Such a hoot, I'm sure. I didn't even want to contemplate what ghastly state my hair was in. And how did I get up here, anyway? Did . . . OH GOD. DID PAUL CARRY ME?!?!  
  
THIS SUCKS!  
  
Or hell, maybe Tad bit me while I was asleep? I dunno, wouldn't surprise me. Was I dead? Was I a vampire? A ghost? Hell, still alive even?  
  
Mmm . . . I wasn't glowing. Trust me, my skin still looked all fair and stuff, dammit. I didn't crave blood, I could still blink and breathe and stuff . . . Maybe I was alive?  
  
Oh, go me.  
  
I muttered something really stupid about then. Like, I think it was "did anyone manage to remember my Kate Spade bag? That cost me five week's allowance, you know. Yeah, you," or something like that. I know, I suck.  
  
Paul was standing right beside me, while his hand was drawing lazy circles on my neck. I blinked again, and tried to sit up, but not only did Paul push me back down, but I don't think my head would have allowed it. It was totally beating in time with the pop music downstairs.  
  
And those crazy musicians throw some pretty fast pop music these days . . .  
  
'What are you -?' I started, but Paul put a finger on my lips, and began tracing the shape of my mouth. It tingled horribly, but my head was too busy doing the Tarzan roar to protest.  
  
'Hey, Susie . . . ' Paul smirked down at me. I could see his leather overcoat, and as illegal as it is to say . . . it looked pretty hot on him. I know it's horrible and sinful, but . . . leather worked wonders with him.  
  
Should buy Jesse some.  
  
o.O  
  
Um, just ignore that.  
  
'Paul, what do I –'  
  
Oh yeah, Tad was still there, the creep. He gagged me! The ASSHOLE! He gagged –  
  
'Go get him. Tell him I have her ready. She can't fight.'  
  
'Okay, I'll get him.'  
  
'I can too!' I pouted. I wriggled in objection. 'Look, I - oh yeah, I can't... Poo.'  
  
Paul chuckled, sending my heart into these little tizzies. I felt scared, suddenly, and I wasn't sure why. I still felt like a steamroller had squished my head pancake flat. And not so much with the golden syrup or the ice cream.  
  
I had even gone a little shivery, you know? I mean, despite the fact that it was a balmy night, and all. I'd worn my lovely long black suede overcoat, too. I know, the suede and the denim mini, you scorn distastefully. It's like, a classical mixing of genres. It looks totally cute, I'll have you know. And anyway, I hear that multi media is TOTALLY in. Although, yeah . . . I still felt cold. But I had a feeling that was, you know, nothing to do with the weather.  
  
'Get who?' I frowned. Everything was still swimming, and stuff. Like, you know, all those tropical fish in the aquarium. Swimming endless circles . . .  
  
Again, Paul chuckled in a dark softness. He was still outlining my mouth. Now, my lips are totally sensitive, you know? So it still felt completely unpleasant and stuff. But what he said made my brain totally blow up. Without the chunks of brain zooming everywhere, I mean.  
  
'Do you believe in demons, Suze?'  
  
I jerked away from him in alarm. Which resulted in my rolling off the desk, yes. Sideways in Mr Beaumont's swivel chair. Not agile of me, no. So not mock me. It was painful.  
  
. . . STOP MOCKING ME.  
  
'Ow,' I groaned again. Paul was smirking broadly again, with that evil spawn-of-Satan glint in his eyes. 'Oi, DON'T come anywhere near me!' I shouted at him, and totally kicked against his upper thighs from the chair, which sent me propelling back against the wall.  
  
Oh, continue the slapstick, Suze, by all means.  
  
'Suze,' Paul said with amusement, 'Don't be a party pooper. Come on, it's going to be great. This demon guy, the one who is after shifters? Well, you could say that – by means of De Silva – he was the one that made me a ghost.'  
  
'Oooh . . . The demon POSSESSED JESSE!' I said gleefully.  
  
Paul scoffed. 'God no.'  
  
My face fell.  
  
'I'm going to tell you a story, Suze. So shut up and pay attention.'  
  
'It doesn't involve Pinocchio or the Seven Dwarves, by any chance?' I said hopefully. Yuck head . . . STOP SPINNING.  
  
'No, they're not going to make any guest appearances, Suze. Snow White might,' though. And now that you mention it, yeah, possibly one of the seven dwarves,' he added secretively. 'You know, Dopey?'  
  
Huh?  
  
'It was this stupid guy who made me go after shifters. That was why I died. I was saving myself from a fate worse than death. Because, believe me when I say that this guy is no happy sunshine mediator. What he does with the souls that he gathers, well . . . anyway. I escaped that, but got killed in the process. I was a ghost. A powerful one, too, because I'd been one of the most powerful shifters ever. Some of those powers still remain in me.'  
  
Stupid, stupid . . . tied up hands . . . can't even thump him . . .  
  
'But yeah, then my demon friend found me again,' his nose twitched in anger. You could tell that he didn't exactly think the world of this guy – whoever he was. I had yet to find out. But yeah, my heart was totally going thud, thud, THUD.  
  
Ya know? As it does when you're scared, and . . . well . . .  
  
Drunk?  
  
I swallowed hard.  
  
'And this guy isn't one to mess around with. I'm playing in the big leagues now, Suze. I'm playing with the men.'  
  
'Funny,' I said snidely, 'I didn't think they allowed wimps on the men's team.'  
  
I heard Paul make some breathy noise in anger. 'Shut up,' he said coldly, his teeth gritted. He knelt down beside me crossly, right in front of my face, glaring. I stared at his eyes curiously. They were so . . . blue. And cold. And saturated with this loathing. But beyond that, I saw something. Something that was intertwined in each and every cell of his intense blue irises. It was hidden, and shielded, but I could see it.  
  
Fear.  
  
Paul was scared.  
  
I didn't know why. He'd never been scared before. Why was he scared? It was totally weird. It mystified me to even think of the concept – that Paul might actually be susceptible to fear as well. But . . . Paul Slater, bad ass, all powerful ex-shifter, cool, confident, dark ghost...scared? Nah, not in this reality.  
  
What would he be scared about?  
  
'Paul,' I said slowly, 'Look. I don't know what you're going to do, but don't. Don't do anything bad. I . . . I can see something in you, in your eyes. Right now. You're . . . ' Dare I say it?  
  
His eyes hardened, as if a sheet of stone had covered any of the fear I might have seen. Had it been there? 'I'm what, Suze?'  
  
My eyes flickered away, and back to his. 'I don't know why . . . but you're scared.'  
  
A spasm of annoyance rippled across his dark face. Then he laughed a little. I don't know why. There wasn't anything funny to me. He stood up, and walked away from me. Tall, dark, and with bad intentions.  
  
'I'm scared?' he sneered, 'Take a look closer to home, Suze. You're the one who's sitting in a vampire's chair, and is going to be offered to a demon, in exchange for my life.'  
  
. . . WHAT?!  
  
My eyes went horribly wide. 'What?!' I demanded, 'What do you mean? Exchange for your . . . WHAT?!'  
  
A malicious smirk claimed his lips. 'Yeah. Scary thought, isn't it? Come on Suze. Now you have full reason to be scared. Plead. Beg me to let you go. Come on, I'm dying to here you scream again . . . '  
  
WHERE WAS MORE ALCOHOL WHEN YOU NEEDED IT?  
  
Shit!  
  
'Look, Paul you don't want to be doing that,' I snapped. 'Untie my hands . . . I can fight this demon guy, and I can get you out of here. Jeez, I don't know why I give a piss about you, but . . . I dunno. Just untie me, please, I can help –'  
  
'Help me?' he asked with a smile, and a nasty look in his eyes.  
  
I gulped a little, feeling my lips shaking a little. 'Um . . . yeah, you know . . .'  
  
'Suze, I'm past the "getting help" stage. There's no way to beat this guy,' he said spitefully, 'I'm sure in your time you've come up against a couple of cute little ghostie boys with little muscles, and you've got the warm fuzzies when you take them down, but . . . no, Suze. A demon is something a lot scarier than a ghost. Except for perhaps me.'  
  
'You're not scary,' I informed him bitchily, running my tongue over my teeth. 'You're a try-hard. So hey, try-hard?' I narrowed my eyes, and whispered, '. . . try harder.'  
  
Bad move.  
  
He materialized so he was standing right over me, seized me by the shoulders, hoisted me up and slammed me against the wall. He set his jaw, looking all hot and manly – unfortunate as it was – and just glared, adding the description "evil" to that list of adjectives. It hurt – God, it hurt – but he wasn't going to get to me easily. Not when I had touched a nerve like that.  
  
I think I was starting to realize Paul's weakness.  
  
. . . Failing.  
  
Whoa. It was like, something I suddenly knew. I just didn't know why, or how . . .  
  
He was breathing hard. So was I. Our breaths meshed into each other, but it was only mine that counted. Mine was real. His was air's ghost.  
  
He just pinned me there, held me close like that, not saying anything. Just looking. His face was marshaled in such an angry, hateful way. His lip was curled slightly, and his eyes were narrowed. He looked strong, and very, very dangerous.  
  
He was too close . . .  
  
But this moment of silent menace was broken, by the elevator door opening.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Paul pushed away from me like I'd caught fire or something. Yay, go the irresistible sex appeal, Suze. I turned abruptly, and looked at who'd just swept through the door, surrounded by about seven vampires, looking very henchmen and all. Well, I assumed they were vampires. Either that or they seriously needed to invest in some fake-tanning lotion.  
  
Marcus, Mr Beaumont's um . . . secretary or something. I dunno, employee? Whatever. No doubt, second in command of this demon, too? He looked pretty vicious, all six feet of him. He was dressed in a snazzy black Versaci suit, and a black pair of shiny Cole-Haans. Well, at least the guy had style, more than we can say for Mr Beaumont.  
  
'This is her?' he asked in surprise.  
  
I blinked. I couldn't say who looked more confused, him or me. What the hell did Marcus care if I was "her" or not? Where's this demon guy already?  
  
'Um,' I said, but Paul cut me off.  
  
'Yes, this is her,' he bowed his head, and stepped back. Now, you know, my hands were still kind of tied behind me and all. Not so hot. I writhed my wrists, trying to free them from the bonds they were imprisoned in, but no go. Someone had done a pretty thorough job. Three guesses who.  
  
'Remember me, Suze Simon? The girl you were trying to convince that she got attacked with a pen? Not such a neat cover-story, Mr . . . aaah, sorry, who the hell are you anyway?' I said impolitely.  
  
'Suze, shut up!' Paul hissed.  
  
Marcus raised a blond eyebrow lazily. 'Please . . . we go to all this trouble to obtain this young lady, and you don't believe she merits an explanation? Shame, Paul.'  
  
Okay . . . this guy was WAY too cocky for my liking. He had that total nasty I-got-prom-king look about him which really got me miffed. Who did this guy think he was, anyway? Van Helsing?  
  
But then . . . Van Helsing kills vampires, don't he?  
  
Aw, poop. My theories are all shot.  
  
Paul's head was looking at the ground. 'Ignore anything she says,' he muttered. 'She's very –'  
  
'Paul, do shut up,' Marcus drawled, taking a step towards me. He put out a hand mockingly, inviting me to shake it, knowing perfectly well that my hands were, um, engaged. 'Good evening Miss . . . what was it? Oh yes, Simon. I'm Marcus Beaumont.'  
  
Marcus B – WHAAAAAH?!?!  
  
My surprise must have surfaced, because he promptly responded with, 'Yes, Red is my brother. Elder brother, it seems. And young Tad is my nephew.'  
  
From the background, I noticed Tad again, leaning against the elevator door. He was smirking widely, like this was all a joke.  
  
Ha frigging ha.  
  
I turned back to Marcus. 'So, what's going on, then? You look like you possess an iota of intelligence.'  
  
Everyone, at that, kind of breathed in a little more loudly than usual, but you know, didn't exhale? What was WRONG with these people?  
  
A grin broke out on Marcus's face. It looked odd on him, like he had no right to be grinning like that, you know? It didn't belong on a face like that. 'So, what is this explanation then?' I asked huffily.  
  
Marcus laughed. I glanced over at Paul, and I saw him look away from me impetuously, genuflecting.  
  
He couldn't look me in the eye.  
  
Whoa.  
  
'Well, I do suppose that Paul has at least enlightened you that there is a dangerous demon on the loose,' he smiled slightly. It didn't come close to reaching his eyes. In fact, it was downright forced, and fake. Like it took two million muscles to smile like that. It wasn't natural. It was hideous!  
  
Oh, Suze, shut up . . .  
  
'Yeah, so who's this psycho demon then?' I asked.  
  
Marcus closed his eyes, his mirth apparently overcoming him.  
  
So funny, my ribs are just CRACKING with the hilarity.  
  
'Why, me, of course,' he said simply.  
  
. . .  
  
Um . . . yeah . . .  
  
I kind of snorted. '. . . Whoa, dude, you're killing me, come on, tell the truth. I know that sometimes in life we get sick of being so pathetic, and we make up these little stories that we are, oh, I dunno, demons? It happens to loads of people. Like, um, people on Jerry Springer, Michael Jackson – '  
  
Remind me not to get drunk again? Michael Jackson INDEED.  
  
'Suze, shut up!' Paul hissed again at me.  
  
Marcus didn't seem too happy with me. Oooh, I get it now. Paulie wanted me to cork it in case I, I dunno, wrecked his chances at getting his life back? Damn, Paul was gullible. This guy, Marcus, he didn't exactly seem the type to keep his word.  
  
. . . You'd think that I'd be a bit more scared, you know, in the face of a demon and stuff?  
  
Well, um, not really.  
  
Because, let's face it. Marcus Beaumont – as I now knew – wasn't as scary as Paul after you've totally made out with his murderer who saved you from a psychotic chick ghost whom he – Paul – had been sleeping with.  
  
Trust me when I say that that experience was FIRST HAND.  
  
Although, all in all, this wasn't cool. Because although I doubted Marcus looked all that much – in the scary demon way, I mean. In the other way, you know, the physical way, he wasn't lacking all that much. He could easily pick up some middle-aged chick if he dropped into a singles bar some time – I had a feeling that there was a lot more to him than just a corny grin. I mean, Paul Slater does NOT scare easily. But Marcus, well, the dude scares him. So I was in trouble again, wasn't I?  
  
Nothing I couldn't handle. Well, maybe if I was a bit more sober, yeah. And I had Jesse to, you know, spoon-feed me and stuff . . .  
  
Basically? I was screwed, wasn't I?  
  
'Well, aren't we bold?' Marcus said in something between skepticism and approval. His eyes flickered all over me. And I doubt it was because he was marveling at my Jordache skirt, either.  
  
You know, about then, all I could think was, "I drank alcohol. Mum's going to kill me!" Wonder if she'd get the chance, you know?  
  
I gave him my best punk-ass-bitch glare, but it only made him smirk. Paul still couldn't look me in the eye . . .  
  
'Well, this is the best you can do, Paul?' Marcus said in disappointment.  
  
HUH?  
  
'What . . . what do you mean?' Paul asked, a little defensively, throwing a fleeting look at Marcus from his down-on-one-knee position. But he sure as hell wasn't popping any big questions.  
  
YEAH? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? I mean, RUDE much? Best he can do!? Am I not good enough for his demonic needs?!  
  
Etiquette much?!?!  
  
Marcus cocked a flaxen eyebrow cynically. 'Well, Paul, she is not up to your usual standard. You said that you could only bring me one girl, and I was lenient. Usually you bring me swarms of ghosts. But . . . she's not much, is she?'  
  
HEY! OH MY GOD, NOT MUCH?  
  
SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, BUSTER.  
  
'I still don't get . . . uh, don't understand your meaning,' Paul said carefully. 'She is a powerful shifter. Yes, she looks normal, I was mistaken when I first met her too. But she has power. She's . . . she's more than what she seems.'  
  
SCREW YOU PAUL!  
  
I must have been glowering at him scornfully, because my face was hurting. How RUDE were these people? Way to put a girl down, you know? With the best- you-can-do? thing, you know? And – and the "looks normal" thing!  
  
I think that I look better than just NORMAL tonight! I curled my hair and everything! LEAVE-IN CONDITIONER AND EVERYTHING!!!  
  
I think it was fair to say that I was spitting chips about then, serious, I was SO insulted. Paul, although, seemed to be panicking.  
  
'I . . . I can get another one,' he said quickly, 'another shifter. I can bring him here –'  
  
'Paul,' Marcus said wearily, turning away from me, and looking down at him in a chiding manner, 'I don't fancy waiting for another week for you to make your move. Why you took so long to secure Miss Simon here, well, it is arcane. So, please see why I'm not too keen on delaying this – '  
  
'No, he – this shifter, he's here! I can get him now, it won't take a second!' he said in hesitation. Oooh, this was interesting. Now, there's your basic D.I.D. You know, Dickhead in Distress.  
  
. . . What?  
  
Hang on . . . shifter, at the party?  
  
Shit! He meant JESSE!  
  
'You stay away from him!' I yelled, going totally spaz in my tied-up state. 'Don't you even think about –'  
  
'Shut her up?' Marcus drawled, casting me a lazy gaze. Two vampires came at me, you know, all clawed-hands and foamy mouthy, but in this total moment of skill, I kicked the both of them at the same time, right back against the wall.  
  
With my hands behind my back.  
  
. . . God, I'm good.  
  
'Suze!' Paul warned in a dangerous whisper. But Marcus, at least, seemed impressed. See? The guy did have taste. It was deep, and buried, and practically non-existent, but it was THERE. I'm so proud.  
  
'Well, I guess you were right, she isn't what she seems,' Marcus said in mind astonishment. His delicate yet strong features scanned me again. 'Although, Paul, this promise of a second shifter is too tempting to neglect. So, you can guarantee to have him up here in, say . . . ' Marcus idly checked his Rolex, ' – fifteen minutes?'  
  
Paul smirked, and stood up at last. Man, his knee must be sore. 'I'll have him up in ten,' he assured him. 'Just leave me alone with Suze – I mean, the shifter here, and he'll be up here in a heartbeat. Not that your friends can relate to that much anymore,' he nodded towards Tad, and some of the other vampires, who kinda growled.  
  
Oooh . . . meow.  
  
But . . . Paul and me, alone? Stupid horoscopes . . . stupid Paul . . .  
  
With a raised eyebrow, Marcus nodded. 'Very well, Paul. You've only failed once. That, as you know well, cost you your life. I don't want you to have to . . . suffer again,' he hinted in amusement. On the whole? Marcus didn't give a shit.  
  
'But Marcus, Paul's got a thing for her,' Tad snapped in annoyance. 'He's just gonna –'  
  
'Shut up, Thaddeus,' Paul said dangerously.  
  
'Yeah, shut up Thaddeus,' I agreed, blowing him a raspberry. Oh, the maturity.  
  
And with that, Marcus glared at everyone in the room, and shepherded them out.  
  
. . . Except for Paul.  
  
This wasn't going to be fun.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
The elevator doors closed with a jolt. A chill ran through me at that second. It was ephemeral, but God, was it there. I felt it in every nerve of my body. In my fingertips, down my arms, up my neck . . .  
  
Paul was facing the elevator doors. His arms were crossed, and he looked so . . . definite. Like he had every reason in the world to be standing there. As if there was no other place for him, anywhere, at this very second in time. This was his moment. Of what, I hadn't the foggiest.  
  
I kind of backed away while he wasn't looking. Sheesh, was there anyway to get out of this room? I mean, I doubted that the elevator would be useful. Marcus – the DEMON can you believe that? He TOTALLY isn't demon material, no? – sorry . . . yeah, Marcus and his cronies would be guarding it or whatever, to prevent the lovely little lasses who endeavoured to flee the premises. Go me . . . Oh, this was totally going to end in lots of donuts, right? Yay.  
  
I felt my throat kind of go dry again. Like, I really needed a glass of chilled water to moisten my vocal chords that had suddenly gone Sahara dry. The air that I breathed in was cold and sharp, and it stung my lungs. It didn't make sense . . . it wasn't cold in this room. In fact, it was quite temperate. So why did I suddenly feel freezing?  
  
And then, he turned.  
  
It was a slow, seductive, dark movement.  
  
His eyes glared at me from a wicked angle, and he had a ghost of a smile on his face. Only a trace. Like, something long ago had made him laugh and the humour was still wearing off. But this humour was nothing to laugh at. It was scary, and threatening, and deadly. I could feel it, in the chill that had engulfed me. I could smell this threat in the air that scythed my throat. Again, I tried swallowing, but it was kinda hard.  
  
'So, what's it going to be?' Paul asked me.  
  
I stiffened. What did he mean by that?  
  
'Huh?'  
  
He blinked and looked down, that gentle grin still garnishing his lips. Now I know it was NOT the time, and it was wrong, wrong, WRONG to be thinking such impure thoughts at such a desperate time, but my God . . . he looked so sexy right there in that dark leather jacket, with the gelled brown hair and the slow, enticing smile and the dark, yet incredibly light eyes . . .  
  
Oh God have mercy.  
  
I inwardly slapped myself. Bad Suze. BAD. Paul is BAD. Stay away from hot bad ass –  
  
STOP THINKING.  
  
I still didn't understand him. 'What do you mean?' I kind of threw out randomly, in a voice that didn't sound at all like my own. It was higher, and quieter.  
  
His gaze was riveted on my face again. A clenching tremor passed through me, seizing all of my muscles together relentlessly. He had no idea that he had this effect on me . . . No idea at all . . .  
  
'Suze,' he said, coming closer to me. A dark, dangerous aura draped him heavily. His eyes seemed to glow with blackness. I looked away. 'What?'  
  
He walked to me. His hand lifted, and rested on my shoulder. He then proceeded around me, and he untied my hands. My eyes widened vaguely in surprise. What . . . what was he doing?  
  
Once I could, you know, feel circulation in my hands again, he came to stand right over me, so his lips were millimeters away from my forehead. Every second or two, we would make contact, which would trigger something very electrical on my part. Oh so traditionally, my breathing quickened. It hurt a lot now.  
  
'Suze, look . . . if there's a chance, the smallest chance ever, that we could be together, tell me. I need to know. I need to hear it,' he whispered onto my forehead.  
  
Well, that stunned the hell out of me.  
  
What was he . . . WHAAAHH?!  
  
I stepped back a little. 'Paul . . . you know already. You can't just do all those things to me, and expect me to just accept the flaws about you. You're too . . . dodgy. You scare me to be around. Everything you do, and say . . . you're not . . .'  
  
'Not what?'  
  
Sane? Safe?  
  
'. . . You're not Jesse.'  
  
I felt him go very hard. I could feel something exuding from him. Oh, shouldn't have said that . . .  
  
REALLY SHOULDN'T have said that!  
  
Paul's hand shot to my upper arm, and held it in like a vice-grip. I gasped, and weakly tried to tug my arm away, but my heart wasn't in the struggle. I knew, somehow, that this was something I had to hear, to make myself believe it as well . . .  
  
'Suze, God! You ruin everything! Why can't you make up your mind?!' he yelled in my face.  
  
I blinked impassively. 'What? Decide whether I want to go for the nice, sane guy who loves me, or the psycho, abusive one who wants to sacrifice me to some demon freak? Well, whoa, you haven't given me many OPTIONS, Paul. I wonder,' I snapped back at him in blunt sarcasm.  
  
His nose wrinkled in anger, and he yanked me to the side, and – not again . . . – tried to kiss me. I turned away as sharply as I could, but his lips roamed my bare neck, and beneath my ear. Oh, God . . .A heat so strong scorched my head. I gasped, as half of me wanted to just fall into him and kiss back, letting go of everything I prized myself on – self-control, poise, virtue, dignity, my love for Jesse, my status . . .  
  
The other half of me wouldn't let me drown in the moment.  
  
He wanted to get Jesse up here. Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to call him. He wasn't going to try and make me call for him. Scream for him.  
  
But I wouldn't.  
  
He couldn't make me . . .  
  
With a moan, I shoved his head away from mine, and glared into those pools of ice –  
  
. . . And there it was again!  
  
That FEAR in his eyes! I hadn't imagined it! It was clear, and real, and there.  
  
Why was he scared?! What was the deal? This was PAUL SLATER.  
  
I frowned heavily, and closed my eyes for a second. That was when something extremely alarming happened. I . . .I couldn't explain it, but it just . . .happened.  
  
. . . I can't do this . . . I can't let her die. Not at his hands. I love her, why am I DOING this? This isn't me. Why am I such a monster? What happened to me? Is this how I show love? By running away like a pathetic loser, and letting other people take the blame? Hell, letting SUZE die because I'm too scared to? I'm already dead . . . why should it be so bad? Anything has to be better than this, existing only to know that I'm second best to that freakin' . . .   
  
I opened my eyes in panic. CRAP! What the HELL just happened?! I shoved myself away from Paul, against the desk in this stupid, prison of an office. What was that? What were those words that I'd just heard playing so loud and clearly in my mind, conflicting with my own thoughts? Was that . . . Paul?  
  
Could I hear what he was thinking?  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
My mouth was hanging open. I didn't WANT to hear what he was thinking! This was just not cricket! Not the modus operandi, ya know? Not COOL.  
  
. . . to know that I'm second best . . .   
  
Oh God. This was how Paul had failed. He'd failed, and Jesse had won. Jesse had won everything that Paul had ever wanted. I don't know how I knew, but I did. I felt like I was a spectator of this whole scandal between two teenage men that were growing ever further, one being pulled into the light, and the other being thrust into the darkness . . .  
  
. . . I can't let Suze die. If she goes, then I'll go. There won't be any point staying around. I can't be here without her. Without the prospect of her, accepting me for the devil that I am. But she never will. It's always De Mented, isn't it? It always will be. She'll always see me as a shadow of a man. She'll never love me like I love her. Hell . . . I'm addicted to her . . .   
  
No, no, no, NO.  
  
. . . So beautiful. Her hair, it's beautiful, and her lips are so soft, and her eyes . . . I've never seen such eyes. Deep, mysterious, oceanic emeralds. Glittering . . . I've wanted her for so long . . .   
  
I crawled away from this figure that was looming over me. I didn't want to know any of this! This was for Paul's brain only! Why could I hear these things, these terrible, ominous words? Paul DIDN'T love me. Love generally tends to involve, you know, not throwing the object of your affections at a murderous demon and all?! AM I RIGHT?  
  
Addicted.  
  
He's addicted.  
  
. . . I'm addicted . . .   
  
Addicted . . . addicted . . . addicted, addicted, addicted, addicted, ADDICTED -  
  
'STOP IT!' I screamed thunderously, as the roar of voices reached a chaotic harmony in my head. It stopped like the vocal chords had been cut with a knife. I was panting on the floor. Oh my God . . . what was this? This power? What did Paul do to me?!  
  
'What's the matter with – ' he began roughly, but I jerked away, wincing. 'Don't!' I shrilled, 'Don't touch me! Just get away! Stop saying these things! They're not TRUE!'  
  
'I'm not saying anything, you idiot,' he snapped.  
  
. . . Addicted . . .   
  
I clutched at my head, trying not to scream. Oh my GOD, my brain was going to have a nuclear meltdown! I felt like I was having an epileptic fit or something. I was shaking, and trying not to listen –  
  
. . . I'm addicted to Suze . . .   
  
'JESSE!' I shrieked stridently, piercing the voice that was echoing in my ears mercilessly.  
  
And with a terrified shimmer, Jesse materialized behind Paul.  
  
That's when hell broke loose.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
How bad was it? Very bad? Mildly bad? Excruciating?  
  
Let me know –  
  
Love,  
  
A very tired Lolly. 


	21. Broken

I would like to stated that I still FULLY have writer's block. About 15 pages of this was written before I came down with this terrible, horrible disease. And I've been adding to it. So yeah, I hate most of this chapter. But whatever. Please, PLEASE still review. More reviews give me more motivation to write. I swear! Please, don't be mad at me. This stupid writer's block has been eating away at me too. It's hard, but I WILL get over it.

So meanwhile, you must put up with my sucky writing.

Don't hate me . . .

A glimmer of panic flashed through Jesse's dark Spanish eyes, as he saw me on the ground, and Paul leaning over me. Something very primal and fearful that made my heart stop. I guess it kind of looked a little compromising, you know. But yeah, even I thought it was a little bit, er, audacious when Jesse seized Paul by the shoulders, and threw him mercilessly into the wall.

Wow . . . now THAT must have hurt.

Well, it might have, if Paul hadn't gone right through it. The wall, I mean. But Jesse, whoa! You should have seen him, he was – he was FURIOUS. It was scary. I looked at him in panic.

'Jesse! God, get out of here! They're after you too!' I shrilled, struggling to stand up. But Jesse wasn't done . . .

'They tricked me!' he yelled, 'They made me believe that Querida was in danger, and she was not! They wanted to get me away from you, Susannah! And then, I couldn't materialize to you, because I could not hear you calling!' Crap, he was pissed off. Not at me, but at Tad and Paul.

Well, I was pissed off too! So . . . blah!

Paul came diving back through the wall with a growl of anger. I squealed, and wriggled away from the pair of them. They were both blistering mad. They looked like they were trying to rip each other to pieces. And Jesse in chunks was just not COOL with me. I couldn't tell you who looked like they'd achieve it first – they both looked like they could be driven to it very quickly. You know, murder. Or well, on Paul's part, serious spectral damage.

Still feeling woozy, I scrambled up, leaning on Mr Beaumont's desk. Everything was still kinda fuzzy. I could definitely make out the two black figures, scuffling before me. DAMN JESSE FOR WEARING BLACK. I couldn't tell who was who at the moment! I blinked hazily. 'Jesse . . . stop it . . . we have to get out of here . . . now . . . '

Jesse let out a roar, and I heard a forceful collision. Paul yelled and again, more punching. Oh, let the fists rock on. I rubbed my eyes furiously, straining to see who was what and how was when. Blearily, I saw Jesse leaning over Paul and punching the crap out of him. Which I was fully supporting at that second, savvy? Everything was so . . . fast, and loud, and my head was MURDER and they kept yelling at each other and I was shaking still –

'Jesse, stop it! We need to get out of here!' I yelled at him, 'Please!'

Concentrating hard, so my brain ached, I focused my gaze on the pair of black combatants. Jesse's face flickered in and out of view – PAUL WAS NOW PUNCHING HIS GUTS OUT! Aaah!

I moved along the desk, and staggered towards them both. Paul was NOT going to hurt my boyfriend, no WAY. Jesse's face was too nice to smoosh up!

Which was why I did what I did next.

Which, incidentally, was pretty thick.

I jumped on Paul's back.

'You're a loser!' I sniped at him, rolling him off of Jesse – so he wouldn't mess up the face. The face, guys? How could you just idly stand by and watch someone mess up that face? I sure couldn't, even if "watch" was a pretty strong word at the moment. Paul, however, found this quite an easy thing to do. Watch idly by, I mean. Especially when the messer was him. And it wasn't really appreciated when I went all with the back jumping and stuff.

So there's me, under a hundred and eighty pound ghost, who was TOTALLY pissed, in the murderous-die-fool-die way. Not such a good combination. Paul glared down at me. My heart sped up as a smirk tugged at Paul's lips. I tried slapping him, hoping he would roll off of me.

'Suze is so weak,' he said darkly, his eyes shooting a glance at Jesse, wherever he was.

I stopped trying to whack him off of me. 'Whaaah?' I asked dumbly. I had this feeling of complete consternation. It was paralyzing to the point that I could not so much as blink my eyes. Everything felt heavy.

Jesse growled from somewhere or other, showing his discontent of the situation.

Paul stroked my hair, twisting a curl around his finger like he was twisting my emotions. 'Well, come on. I mean, I TOLD her I needed you here. And she says she won't call you. But as soon as it starts to get rough, who does she call? Oh, of course, Jesse. Always Jesse.'

I was shaking, partly in anger, but mostly in obvious fear. 'Get the hell off of me,' I managed to growl. I began to thrash about under him...hoping to free myself from him momentarily.

He was like one of those Chinese finger-traps, though. The more I moved, the harder it was for me to escape from him.

His smirk widened. 'Nah, I like the seating arrangements, actually,' he said, moving to his knees. I squirmed, trying to wriggle from beneath him, but to my horror, he repeated actions that had occurred in a very recent dream. One where I hadn't been as hostile as I really should have . . . Oh, crap. My eyes flickered in alarm, and he met them with a roguish glint.

He knew.

He so knew . . .

'So anyway,' Paul shrugged, running his hands down my arms – which tingled horribly – 'All I did was put thoughts into her head. I dunno which ones, but they scared her, regardless. Didn't they, Susie?' he added, with mock concern, touching my cheek with his finger.

I felt like doing a Gollum and biting it off.

But I, um . . . didn't. Eww.

'We shifters can do that, can't we Jesse?' he smirked up at him. His icy eyes blazed with an animalistic fury. Jesse's eyes narrowed – yeah, I could see them now – and his lip curled angrily. He knew that he couldn't make any movement, or Paul would do something to me.

Yay.

'Insert thoughts into the mind of another. As an ex-shifter, I thought I'd be a bit dodgy at it, but nah. Suze is just weak. She's . . . easy to penetrate,' he said in a deeper, darker tone. A chill shot through me.

His hand moved to my stomach, and I kind of freaked. He'd done that in my dream, can you blame me?! Yet again, I unsuccessfully attempted escape, but – well, déjà-frigging-vu, right?

Penetrate . . . you could so tell that Paul wasn't thinking about my mind when he said that. Oh, shitty shit.

His jaw set, and he grinned down at me bestially.

'What – what's . . . Marcus going to do?' I said in an icy tone that was – yeah – spiked with blatant fear. What? I didn't wanna, like, explode or be forced to tap-dance for eternity, so yeah. I wanted to know, but I was scared to.

"Yeah Suze, the evil demon is going to make you tap-dance."

No, he didn't say that. I'm kidding.

What he said was far worse . . .

'I'm so glad you asked that,' he said, a cruel smile claiming his lips. He ran his hands down my neck, and across the exposed skin on my chest. His fingers trailed across my collarbone, and I could almost see Jesse spitting in rage. Just without the, you know, saliva.

Hyperbole. Go figure.

I had to say, though, my heart started pumping a hell of a lot faster when he spoke those words. But was it really the words, or was it the fact that he was touching me? My skin was burning, tingling, and stinging from his touch. It had nothing to with what he said.

My dry lips cracked open again. '. . . Why's that?' I dared ask.

He chuckled softly, and there was an explosion of chills at every point of contact he had with my body. 'Let's just say . . . I'm all for the torture thing,' he smiled ominously.

WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!

My eyes went very, very wide. Torture? Paul was raving, sick, twisted, demented, disturbed, and...

Addicted. Addicted to me. I could hear those words echo through my mind over and over and over. Addicted, addicted, addicted...

'Get away from her,' Jesse snarled from behind Paul. When the departed Mr Slater paid no heed, Mr de Silva – finally – decided to get his point across physically. He hauled Paul away from me, and slugged him hard in the stomach.

'Jesse!' I yelled, 'come ON. We need to get out of here!'

Only Jesse went on hitting him. I think it had something to do with the little rivalry thing the two of them had going. You know, the 'I win.' 'No, I win, you dick!' 'No, it's ME!' thing.

Capishe?

But when Jesse threw Paul across the room at me, I think he wished he'd listened. I stumbled over to Jesse...or at least I tried to when-

Paul seized me from behind, and held me very hard. As in, so hard it hurt. I didn't want him touching me. I really didn't. Things happened to me when he touched me now, that were so horrible I didn't even want to think about them. Because, these horrible reactions weren't just painful. They were scandalizing, traumatizing, horrifying...

But I think the horror came from the fact that I loved it as well. Don't start going ballistic on me. I said I loved 'it', not Paul. All of these feelings I got from him...those were all so new and thrilling to me. I was on a ride. And loving every minute of it. It seemed that all of my blood was channeled to the place where he held me so tightly- my hips. One scratch, and I'd be bleeding myself dry. But even with that thought in my mind...the sensation pumping through my veins drowned it all out.

So, as to keep the tradition ablaze, I struggled. Hell, I did. But also in the name of tradition, Paul held on tighter and refused to let go. A deep, corrosive frustration ate at me. I wanted him gone. I couldn't stand to feel like that. So bad, and yet so good.

I wasn't SUPPOSED to feel like that! Why was I? Was there something wrong with me? Do I have a short circuit up in that fiddly noggin of mine? I mean, crap. This was not good . . . I felt like my skin was turning to ice . . .

Jesse was immobilized. Again, he feared to move. Aren't I a priceless little hostage? Aw, go me.

'Well, would you look at this. God, de Silva, you have too many weaknesses,' Paul said, his tone saturated with amusement. His hand shot around my front, and cradled my chin, squeezing my mouth in. I was furious with him, but again, my nerves went spastic when he touched my skin. His other hand closed around my wrist with an iron grip. My breath snagged in my throat unbearably. 'First was little Adrianna. And now, we have Suze. Only . . . I think that you'd probably get over it if I killed her, right?' Paul asked. I could tell he was grinning.

Jesse took a threatening step forward. 'You have no clue what love is, Slater. Susannah is something precious to me. Beyond your capacity to imagine. You will not hurt her, or I will make sure that you suffer immensely.'

Way to goad him, Jesse. Thanks, really. Totally appreciative, me.

Because it was then that Paul decided to, I dunno, break my arm?

The bone snapped like a twig.

I wailed in pain, and Jesse exploded in a fresh rage that scared the life out of me, and ran at Paul, but, grinning insanely, Paul threw me into the glass wall of the fish tank. I screamed as the glass shattered and showered down on me, whilst the crushing water pressure thrust me back against the opposite wall, and Jesse too. Ow, my arm, it HURT LIKE HELL.

The fishy water rushed into my mouth – EW! – and pretty much knocked the wind out of me. When the water filled the room evenly, I coughed out the disgusting water, sobbing. My arm was definitely broken. I heard the crack, and GOD it killed! I held onto it, my face screwed up in pain. Jesse, well, he was furious. No, sorry. Furious is a gross understatement. Jesse was MAD with rage.

'CANTAMAÑANAS! Jesse roared, also soaked from head to foot, unlike the ghostly Paul Slater, who'd been unaffected by the water. I was still choking on the water that had forced itself down my lungs. On my arms, several bits of glass had been blasted at me and had pierced my skin. And my broken one, well, that looked just wrong. It was kinda purple. And by God, it felt WORSE than it looked . . .

Straining my face, I begged to Jesse now, 'Please . . . we have to get out of here –'

Only Paul wasn't too keen on letting us go.

'No,' he glared darkly at me, 'You're not going anywhere. He is going to have you, you bitch . . . you don't treat me like that and expect for me to let you go –'

'Oh my GOD!' I screamed in wild response, with a wave of annoyance, 'Are you KIDDING me?! Is this because the girl doesn't like you? Dude, it's called REJECTION. Deal like everyone else! That is to say, DON'T break their arms and feed them to bloody DEMONS!'

SAVVY???

He stared at me, and then grinned. But I'd had enough. My arm? Yeah, it was . . . what's the word I'm looking for? I know, OW. He'd BROKEN it! You don't just – just – BREAK PEOPLES' ARMS WHEN THEY SNUB YOU!!

Aww, bah . . . this was a total mess.

The exotic fish were flopping desperately on the water, gulping down all the water that was still available. I was plopped on my – now soaked through – butt, with an excruciating arm, a dizzy head, and a shitty mood.

And oh yeah. I was scared.

'Jesse, PLEASE! We have to get out!' I appealed to him once more.

And wonder of wonders, he actually listened. He splashed over to me, just before Paul could beat him to it.

'No!' Paul yelled, in what I recognized to be panic. He couldn't let us leave, aye. Then the demon-butt head would poopify him, right? Well, excuse me for not minding then, in my current state of mind. But the ARM thing? Yeah, not too chuffed about THAT.

BURN IN HELL, SUCKER!!

Only . . . for a flicker of a moment, I – I know, I KNOW! – actually found myself very, very worried that that was where he'd end up . . .

But then . . . he deserved it. He was the bad guy here. Wrecking this party, ruining my life, trying to split up true love. He deserved it all.

Right?

Jesse dragged me up, also in a panic. I inhaled sharply when he accidentally knocked my arm. He looked pained, 'I am sorry, querida, I didn't mean to – '

'She's staying right here.'

I turned, and Paul was glaring at Jesse from the corner of the room . . . oooh, poo. Now, if I had not seen Paul Slater mad, well . . . I did then. His eyes were clouded with something with more intensity than murderous objective . . . darker than evil, and angrier than the wild, black storms of Carmel Beach. The darkness from within seemed to corrode and claim all of his features as he regarded Jesse with a stare that could silence an avalanche. Or, freeze it as to stop it from moving.

Oh, God.

This was bad. Really, really, really bad . . .

'You can't go, anyway, Suze,' he said softly to me. His gaze burnt on me, and I saw his eyes glimmer. 'Snow White? The clown? Dopey? They're all going to die . . . unless you do as you're told.'

I froze. Oh, man, I froze. As if that avalanche was now crushing me.

And Paul had been the one to yell that bit too loudly . . .

My eyes went very wide. 'No – no way, you're not going to TOUCH them!'

He knew he had me cornered.

And the walls were closing in. Fast.

Jesse, who was standing half in front of me protectively, held onto me tighter. His arms were warm around me. My broken one was pounding, and it was all I could do not to express this pain to Paul. He couldn't have that satisfaction . . . oh MAN, this was bad. 'Technically, Slater, she is correct. Indeed, you are not going to touch them. You are dead. A fate you so richly deserve.'

Um, anyone thinking that at this point in time, Jesse's really JESSICA SIMPSON?!

HELLO??? MY ARM WAS ALREADY BROKEN.

Paul's whole demeanour went from bad, to worse. I watched as his fists clenched in dormant fury, and his face was etched with the purest desire to kill.

And he was glaring at me.

Well, shit.

'I think that it's my word that we'll be going by,' Paul said, and exploited the fresh anger as he made all the broken glass in the room rise and aim right at me. 'I'm the only one in the room that doesn't smell fishy. And Suze? I may not be able to touch them. But there's something to be said for a guy who's in league with a homicidal demon and a band of vampires, you know?'

All I could do was breathe, before the splinters of glass were darted at me. I let out a scandalized scream, jamming my eyes shut and cringing into Jesse, waiting for the infiltration of the million chips of deadly glass, for the tearing of my skin to make me shriek in pain.

But it didn't come.

With a strangled breath, I opened my eyes a fraction. Oh my . . .

Right in front of my eyes, were fragments of glass directed right at my pupils. There was a layer of glass all over me, that was about, I dunno, a single centimeter away from actually having contact with me. I could see, past the fractured barrier of wet crystal, that Paul was exerting enormous concentration to achieve this. Make the glass stop, I mean. Before it cut me.

I could feel Jesse breathing hard beside me. My arm seriously needed medical attention, it was practically black now. But I couldn't move a muscle.

'I told you before,' Paul's voice cut in calmly, 'you're not going anywhere.'

I swallowed hard. One movement, and he'd do it. Make the glass plunge into every centimeter of my body. Oh, he wouldn't hesitate. He was past hesitation, now. He was past many things, now. So much so that he was well on the way to insanity.

Only as a ghost, he couldn't go insane. He'd still be able to remember everything he did, but he could still plan . . . know exactly what he had set out to do, and execute his tasks accordingly.

And when I say execute, I'm not being melodramatic.

This was no dress rehearsal. This was the real deal.

That was when the elevator whirred, and I heard the doors open, but I couldn't turn to look at them. Oh no . . .

I heard lapping water flood down somewhere, and a small crackle of electricity.

'What the . . . what the DEVIL have you done, Paul?!' demanded the voice that I could only recognize to be Marcus'. Jesse held onto me tighter, and I was breathing as hard as I could without making movement enough to provoke Paul to make me all sparkly and red.

Although...that would match my Maybelline Wet Diamonds lipstick.

'She tried to leave . . . ' Paul mumbled. 'I had to stop her.'

Marcus was silent. It sounded like he was just glaring at Paul, which, hello? Fully supportive, me.

And then, he started speaking in a tone of deadly calmness. 'I ask you to bring me a shifter. Instead, you promise me two. This served to make me almost proud of you, Paul. And yet, one of them is now ruined. You have broken her arm. This doesn't please me at all.'

'She struggled – ' Paul started, but there was an explosion of light, and next thing I saw through the glass, was Paul flying back against the wall, hard.

Blah. Hope it hurts, you faggot.

All the glass around me fell as soon as his focus was broken. I gasped as I felt my skin being scratched. There were small red trails over all my arms and shoulders. Man, this was NOT cool. And by God, my arm was killing me.

I really needed to get it to a hospital. Badly.

Marcus sighed and faced the both of us. I felt my skin go very tight, like it was being stretched tautly over my body. I kind of shrank back into Jesse. I wanted to be protected. I really was scared, and I wasn't understanding why. I've faced worse than this, with CONCUSSIONS. This was a pissy broken arm. Why did I have to get the heebie jeebies NOW? Oh man, this sucked. 'Well,' he said simply to Jesse, 'Hand her over.'

Jesse gripped me more defensively, and I winced, looking at Marcus through angry eyes. 'I do not know what you are saying,' he growled to Marcus, 'But I would rather die than surrender Susannah to you.'

Marcus chuckled softly. 'Then die you shall,' he shrugged.

'Jesse!' I squealed, 'Now!'

And most impeccably timed, his whole body tensed as he triggered dematerialization. As the last speckles of glitter shielded my face, I heard a livid Marcus yelling, 'Find them! Kill all the others if you have to!' and Paul moaning, 'NOOOOOOO!'

Jesse and I materialized in the room that we'd been kissing in just earlier. A very stupid part of my just wanted to grab him and lay a huge fat one on his lips, but I did not do this because

I was incapable of grabbing anything with my left arm, and

Hello? Crisis situation? Give me some credit, please.

But yeah, so I was generally occupied. I whimpered a little – I know, pathetic, but HEY, at least I wasn't CRYING, OKAY? Crying? Sheesh, I'd rather break all my limbs than cry. Well . . . maybe not . . . I mean, crying is usually painless, and plus, breakage of limbs would cause me to cry, and –

'Susannah, you must get out of here,' Jesse said suddenly, turning me to face him. He looked into my eyes with . . . was that fear?

Why the HELL was Jesse scared?! I mean, Paul's spinelessness had been kind of flooring, but JESSE? Aw, crap, don't let him get scared on me, please!

'Jesse, no way, there's like, fifty plus people here! And you heard them, they're going to kill them all, Jesse! We HAVE to do something!' I snapped at him. My arm throbbed painfully, and I winced.

He groaned. 'Susannah, you are hurt. I can get everyone out. Do not make the mistake in thinking that I do not want everyone to stay safe. Do not think that for a second. I put no one's life beneath my own. But, it is you that is injured. You are not fit to defend anyone in this condition. You have to –'

'Shut up!' I said, 'I have FRIENDS here! There's not a hope in hell that I'm going to leave them here to just get leeched by some crappy would-be fictional beasties, you gotta be kidding me! I'm staying here. CeeCee and Adam are here. And my step-brother! Granted, he's not that loving as far as siblings go, but come on! I'm not going!'

'Damn you and your stubbornness!' Jesse growled, shaking me a bit. I stared at him with fierce determination.

'Jesse, I'm staying. Look, my arm will be fine.' I held it up, and oh my GOD. It seared with pain, but it was all I could do to stop Jesse from knowing that. I could feel my face shaking against the ache, and my whole body tense, and my EYES even watered a little. I mean, bloody hell. But yeah, Jesse wouldn't know that.

He rolled his eyes in vivid aggravation. 'I do not want you to get hurt! Susannah, this man – this demon, is the reason that Paul is dead! He's –'

'Actually, technically, you are,' I said accidentally.

Me and my FAT MOUTH.

Jesse stopped, and looked away.

'Oh, man,' I said, revolted with myself. 'Jesse, I didn't mean it like – '

But he gritted his teeth. I saw him . . . shaking. WHY WAS HE SHAKING?! WAS IT COLD?!

'Susannah,' he said in a low, angry voice, 'Indeed, Paul is dead because of me. But this demon, well, he was the one that drove Paul to come for Adrianna. Paul's death was very much so my fault, but it was destined. If it had not have been me, it would have been Marcus Beaumont.' He twitched a bit. Now I knew why he was shaking.

He was mad. With me.

'I knew I recognized the name Beaumont. Paul, recently, said that Thaddeus Beaumont bit you –'

'That was NOT a hickey!'

' – and I remembered that name, from when he came to me, pleading for help that night long ago.' Jesse blinked hard, and swallowed like it was painful. He glared at the floor, his jaw set and the scar on his brow glowing white. I watched him nervously, and I touched his arm in concern. 'Jesse . . . I don't blame you. Please, come on . . . I have to help my friends. You need to understand that. I'm not going anywhere until every single person – granted, with a heartbeat – in this house is safe.' I moved my fingers up and placed them softly on the side of his face.

His resolute onyx eyes flickered up to meet mine slowly. His hands gripped me harder against him, and he leant forward and kissed me on the top of my head gently. I closed my eyes and sighed.

'Susannah . . . I respect that. I . . . I know this is very wrong of me, but – ' he broke off, and glared away, looking furious with himself.

'What?' I asked quickly.

He pulled away, cursing in Spanish. Then, he turned back to me wildly, and seized my hands, appealing to me. There was something dancing in his eyes. Like, guilt, clashed with . . . I don't know. It scared me. Like he was going to do something radical. In a hassled, husky tone, he murmured 'Susannah, I – I . . . this is very selfish, I do know this, but . . . I would rather you to be safe, than save everyone in this building.'

I stared at him. My eyes were so, so wide.

'It is my love speaking these words,' he said in rapid defense, 'and – I realize that it isn't right! But –'

Only I silenced him with a kiss.

Oh my God.

He loved me. He really, really, really did . . .

How I managed to do this with a broken arm, I have no idea. All pain just, well, washed away . . . I felt like I had been falling, and he'd just caught me. I felt the fire, and the ice, fighting over me. I was burnt and frozen, and I couldn't decide which would kill me first. I felt the danger of the world around me, and I plunged myself into the flames.

Jesse gripped me tightly. Oh my God, oh my God . . . this was so, so different from anything I'd ever felt. Something was clenching my stomach rigidly, and every nerve along my body was electrified with desperation and abandon and – and all the rest. I was scared. I knew that a lot was in jeopardy. But all I wanted to do, more than anything in the world, was be here. I was selfish, too. To put this uncontrolled desire over my friends, and the lives of others, but –

I pulled away, finding myself. I could barely breathe, still. My throat was on fire and my head was fit to bust. I felt like I would combust if I wasn't kissing him, but . . . no. I had my job to do.

I had lives to save.

And a nice reminder cut through the air like a white-hot knife. A single scream cut off all of the music, and within moments, the Beaumont Estate was in anarchic pandemonium.

'Jesse, we have to go!' I said, pulling him towards the door. The muscles in his face tensed, and then he nodded at me, and we both ran out the door, along the hall silently, and ducked into an alcove.

And . . .

Holy crap.

How different this was. The scene that vexed my eyes at that moment, I mean. Everyone was running for the door. A good lot of them had gotten out, too. But that was when a whole mob of people dressed in complete back slammed all of the doors shut.

All of them.

Kids everywhere were screaming. Girls were being grabbed by – well, I could only assume – Marcus' boys. You know, the vampires. Yah, that be them. A couple of jocks who looked ridiculously drunk were trying to fight one of them, but one kick each, and they were down.

Man. That makes me look SKILLED.

I stared in horror at everything. It was chaos. It was wrong, and scary, and people were screaming, and they were scared too, and I had to save them all and my arm was broken and if I didn't do this I'd die and Jesse would die and a lot more people would die as well and Paul would smirk at me and be all "told ya so" and Tad would be like, a total anus about it too and would probably join in the smirking, but just before he gave me another pecky on the necky.

Synopsis? This was BAD.

The thing was . . . these kids that were getting chased, well, exactly. They were just kids. Just heaps of sixteen-year-olds, being pursued by something that all of them had grown up, thinking they weren't real. Only, vampires were real. Really real.

It was just, I was a sixteen year old kid too.

I really, really didn't want to die.

I didn't!

But this demon thing, well, Marcus had other plans in mind.

So, I was just staring out at the whole mess in front of me, thinking about how I wasn't going to get a tan on Carmel's beach anymore, when Jesse said, 'Susannah, are you listening to me?'

I turned around and looked at him vaguely. There was something weighed down on my heart. It was heavy and painful. And it was spreading to my lower stomach, also.

'Jesse,' I said softly, 'We can't do it, there's too many. We're gonna lose –'

'Susannah!' Jesse snapped in a whisper, and grabbed my good hand. I gave him a strange look, blinking. 'Susannah, this is really not the best time for pessimism. Just moments ago you were telling me how you would not give up until your amigos were safe. And, well, I wholly support that. Please do not act negatively. We can still win this.'

I started breathing slightly harder, looking at all the people downstairs. Some of them were being dragged away by Marcus' lot. And they couldn't do a thing to stop it. I could, and I was just letting them . . .

That was when some ugly guy laid his mitts on CeeCee, who screamed.

'Shit!' I gasped, and before Jesse could hold me back, I'd jumped over the banister that divided that room and the corridor, and I pelted to her, my arm screaming in pain. With a yell, I then plowed my fist into the sun-deprived man's face.

And he fell flat.

I felt like I should have spat on him or something. But . . . ew.

Everyone stopped momentarily, and stared at me. CeeCee was looking at me like I'd just come out wearing a bunny suit. Mind, I reeked of fish which isn't exactly better. But there was a deadly tension in the air that made my heart stop thudding.

Oooh . . . shouldn't have done that . . .

My bad.

'Get her!' roared Marcus, looking down at me fiercely. I kind of squeaked and blinked up at him. Yeah, that squeaking thing? It was just a phase, I swear. I'd grow out of it. Trust me, if I didn't, someone was gonna pay because that was just plain EMBARRASSING.

That was when about eight of those Buffy rejects leapt at me. And may I say, with an injured arm, I put up one hell of a fight. In fact, five of them were down before one of them managed to grab me. My heart was in my throat and my brain was popping, but I kept going . . . there was more at stake than just me . . . there were people who could die . . .

But yeah, as I was saying, one of them TOTALLY cheated and grabbed me from behind. Um, RUDE? I kind of went to bite his fingers, but I was worried I'd give him ideas. Jesse was dealing with another group of sun-unsafe losers, so there was no help for me. Oh, this was not good . . .

I heard laughter, and realized that it was Marcus. Jerking my head up, with a grimace on my face, I saw him looking down at me from the indoor balcony just above me. There was something different about his eyes . . . they were almost, well – almost inhuman. Otherworldly, you know?

If the vertical RED PUPILS meant anything.

I felt my stomach plummet.

Swearing to myself, I tried harder to get away from the guy holding me captive. But the guy was tough. Then, he grabbed me by my ARM, and I whimpered. Suze Simon WHIMPERED. I felt like a mouse caught in a trap.

Lured here by the cheese.

Whatever.

The two remaining ruffians seized me also, their eyes looking hollow and dead. Funny, that. Eyes have a tendency to look dead when they are in fact, exactly that. So yeah, three against one was a little rough. Especially when I was a CASUALTY.

You know?

I thought I was done for. I really did. I mean, there aren't really many other options to look at when you have two demon's minions holding you, and another one coming at you, looking all I-vant-to-suck-your-blood-y and stuff. The whole situation sucked, and I didn't know where Jesse was at that moment, and everything was starting to look very, very dark. Not to mention this guy had halitosis. In spite of the fear that I was refusing to overwhelm me, I felt my heart in my throat and my whole body ache with a dull horror . . .

Oh crap . . . these guys were serious.

I had underestimated how deadly they could be. It was just . . . well, three against one was NOT FAIR. I'd taken out five, and I'd been starting to get cocky.

Well, way to remind me that I'm "only human." Jesus!

I looked in horror at this guy – no, VAMPIRE – as he brushed my dark hair away from my neck. I felt his finger on my pulsing jugular. Shit, shit, SHIT.

And I couldn't move an inch . . .

He was just about to plunge this now exposed fangs into my neck, when there was the sound of pounding footsteps, and the explosion of dust. I jolted, and as the numinous dust dissolved into a vacuum of nothing. With a pumping heart, I looked wildly to the person – or ghost – or vampire – or hell, DEMON? – who'd caused this sudden fatality.

Aww, man . . .

Querida Andres, holding what looked like a jagged chair leg.

Way to SHOW ME UP, HONEY.

I mean, she just saved my neck! Pun not intended. But what was THAT all about, I ask?!

I flashed her an unfelt smile of gratitude that was stumped with my insane pride, and then bashed the two vamps that were grasping my arms into each other. Jeez, way to get a work out . . . my broken one throbbed painfully, and I let out an involuntary gasp as they both crumbled to the floor, in a not-so-dusty fashion.

'Usted está bien?' she wanted to know, her dark Spanish features flashing in something like concern. Her modest attire seemed to mock my own mini skirt.

Maybe . . . maybe Cora was right . . .maybe I wasn't like, good enough for Jesse . . . I felt torn in thanking her. What? Was I going to just give up so easily? Accept defeat? Like someone who was obviously so much better than me, and knew it?

Suze Simon may be many things.

But Suze Simon is NOT a quitter.

And ANYWAY, I don't know how to say, 'Thanks' in Spanish.

. . . Well . . . I do . . . Gracias, but STILL. SHUT UP, FOOLS.

Jesse ran over to us, panting. He was also carrying a jagged piece of wood. What? Was there a MANUAL or something that I missed out on? For God's sake . . . Hmm, I noticed when he bolted over here so desperately, he ran to dear . . . well, Dear, right? He touched her shoulder in worry, and something subtle and annoyed flushed through me. I narrowed my eyes at Querida Andres, who looked oblivious to . . . well, everything. She would have been good as a blond. Intellectually I mean.

What? I have to be cruel to be kind, okay?

Jesse gave me a worried look. 'Your arm, queri – Susannah,' he said anxiously.

I gave him a brave look. 'Can't complain,' I said with a slight wince. I mean, I could have complained, but I didn't want to seem like the whiny type in front of Querida Andres. I mean, I didn't want Jesse . . . you know, comparing.

Ugh.

I looked all around me. A lot of people, as I said, had escaped. But there were still screams coming from the mansion. Some were still trapped. And as I looked between the majestic pillars that surrounded this demolished looking room, I felt all my blood fall to my toes.

There were more . . . more vampires.

A LOT more.

I gasped. So did Querida, as she clapped a horrified hand to her porcelain doll face. Jesse's eyes widened, and he turned so he was standing in front of me and Querida defensively.

Oh my God . . .

A sea of pale faces stared back at us, coming from other parts of the house. They all looked pitiless, and lustful for blood. They were all dressed in dark colours, and they were coming slowly towards us. I turned my gaze aloft and saw that Marcus Beaumont was still at the balcony. He was smiling down at me with a horrible, HORRIBLE glint in his callous eyes.

'Do not kill the shifters,' was all he said to his minions. Yes, minions. The guy had MINIONS. How SAD was that? Ha . . . any guy who has MINIONS is extremely pathetic.

(A/N: YEAH, Paul.)

'We are going to need a lot of stakes,' Jesse breathed.

'Huh?' I said, 'Steak? What's that going to do? "Argh, fear the rump steak, you fiends! Avenging cows everywhere!" "Noooo! Not the raw beef, no!" Jesse, steak is something you EAT, not something you use to slay creatures of the night – '

'Susannah,' he said, 'I am referring to stakes of the wooden kind.'

'Oh.'

Oh indeed.

'Qué una chica extraña,' said Querida to Jesse.

'What?' I demanded, conveniently forgetting the ever nearing vamps.

'Susannah, do not – '

'What did she say? Did she call me fat or something?'

'Susannah, why would she call you f – '

'She did! I knew it!'

'Jesse, qué ella dice?'

'Jesse, what is she saying?'

'Susannah!' Jesse said in anger, 'Please, not now – '

'Um, Suze?'

I went pale. I spun around, and saw that Adam was standing there with CeeCee. What were they still doing inside?! No, no, they had to get out of here! I would NOT let them stay here and get themselves killed! And with all these new black clad thugs coming, well, it was looking even worse.

And hey, my arm was broken. Hello???

I turned to Jesse, suddenly scared. I mean, me fighting was fine. But CeeCee and Adam? Um, how about no? Because, last time I checked, they weren't exactly too good with the fisticuffs. And, so yeah, them fighting a bunch of sucky evil people? Somewhat literally? Not so hot.

I had to at least get them out of here before I kicked ass.

With a, um, broken arm.

Oh, shut up.

'Jesse,' I said, 'What's the plan?' I was still kind of worried about the whole Paul-giving-my-soul-to-demon-dude thing, but I was kind of preoccupied with that annoying little vampires-want-my-blood thing. That kind of knocks Paul off the top of my to do list, huh? Um, yeah.

Jesse looked back at me. Because he was, you know, still standing in front of me and Querida Andres. Huh . . . funny how I couldn't just call her Querida. It had to have her last name there as well, or I felt like I was stealing something very precious from myself. If you, um, can steal from yourself and all. Is that possible? But yeah, it was Querida Andres, and never just Querida.

I was querida.

But hey, hey, look who got the capital Q?

Wow . . . priority much, Suze?

My arm hurt. That was priority. Don't you dare say it wasn't . . . broken bones HURT?

Yeah, Jesse looked scared too. Whoa. Jesse scared is like the eighth wonder of the world or something. He said, in a growling tone, like he was stressed, 'Susannah, we have to fight them. And then we have to get out of here. Because Paul, that el desecho, still intends to give us to Marcus Beaumont – '

'You think I don't know that?' I demanded shrilly, 'Jesse, okay, yeah, we need stakes.'

Jesse turned to me, and handed me the wood that he had. You know, the jagged, broken chair leg thingie, like Querida Andres had. It irked me that I hadn't gotten one to start with. What, did they come complementary with entry or something? "Hi, you're just about to enter a house full of vampires, take this!" Um, no. But whatever, Jesse had another one. He held it in his hand. Behind me, CeeCee whimpered. Her and Adam weren't prepared for this . . . they knew my secret, that I could talk to ghosts, but this was a pretty big shock for them, still.

Hell, it was a shock for ME.

I didn't know how to feel. My desperation had gone. I wasn't as scared as I should have been, I was anxious to start this fight, and get out of here. After killing everything, I didn't know what to do . . . but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

Stupid bridge . . .bah.

The black-clad fiends before us stopped so they kind of surrounded us in a semi circle. I looked up, but Marcus was gone. What, off elsewhere to beat the stuffing out of Paul?

We can dream.

That was something else I should have been feeling weird about. Paul Slater was apparently addicted to me. I mean, I should feel flattered, or I should feel scared.

But no. I just wanted to kick booty. Namely of the undead variety.

Jesse backed me and Querida back, still in a vain attempt to shield us from the vampies. Weird, we were gonna battle them anyway. But he moved us closer to Adam and CeeCee so we were grouped. Safety in numbers or something.

God, I'm weird.

I gripped the steak harder in my hand in preparation, felling as though splinters were puncturing my skin. Joy of joys. I narrowed my eyes in determination.

Jesse breathed in sharply, glaring fiercely at the opponents who had us cornered. I had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well . . . You know, SOMEONE was going to get decapitated, I just KNEW it.

Then, the vamps leapt forward, and fray was launched.

Man . . . thank God I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I dedicate this TOTALLY to you, Sarah Michelle Gellar.

To review . . . or not to review? That is the question.

And the answer is REVIEW, DAMN IT.

Love ya,

Writer's blocked Lolly.


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